


Written in the Stars of Your Eyes

by La_Temperanza



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Community: paperlegends, F/M, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-20
Updated: 2012-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-12 13:35:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 78,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/491619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/La_Temperanza/pseuds/La_Temperanza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The plan was simple: Arthur Pendragon was to scout out the seaside town of Ealdor without anyone knowing he was there on behest of his father’s hotel company. It was supposed to be "get in, swoop in on prime real estate before the competition gets to it, then get out." Funny how the plan didn’t include Merlin Emrys, a self-proclaimed “psychic” who swore Arthur’s life was in danger the longer he stayed in town. </p><p>Not to mention what to do when it turned out Merlin was <i>right</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:** This story contains accidental animal death, minor character deaths, and mild violence.
> 
> I admit it, when I signed up for paperlegends at the very last minute, I might have been under the influence of cold medicine. Once I had a minor freakout that consisted of me going "wtf wtf wtf why did I sign up for a 30k+ fest when the longest fic I've written is under 5k wtf," I realized I would need a lot of help to get this fic done. Thankfully, I had it from the following people:
> 
> \- **the_muppet** , who is an awesome mod for running such a huge and wonderful fest, and was very understanding with my concerns and frustrations.  
> \- **rodiy** , who was my fantastic cheerleader and never had doubts I would make it this far.  
> \- **yenny2206** , who made sure to keep me on track with my writing, even if it was under threat of a whipping, lol.  
> \- **itzcoatl** , my fabulous artist, whose art is spread throughout the fic but can also be found ***[ **HERE**](http://switchsword.livejournal.com/2008.html)***. Every time I received a new piece from her, I made squeaks of joy that were probably not human.  
>  \- the **paperpushers chat** , who put up with my whining and general dorkery, and especially **hms_seth** , who graciously stepped in with last minute edits.  
> \- **moonlightwish** , my fantastic beta for whom I'm eternally grateful for. She strived to help me with this, even after it grew quite beyond the 40k I originally told her. Only she could make me laugh as she tore my story apart to build it back up again. Ilu bb.

  


_“And to the Fool's eyes it is as if the Magician has created the future with a word. All the possibilities are laid out, all the directions he can take. The cool, airy Sword of intellect and communication, the fiery Wand of spirituality and ambition, the overflowing Chalice of Love and emotions, the solid Pentacle of work, possessions and body._

_With these tools, the Fool can create anything, make anything of his life. But here's the question, did the Magician create the tools, or were they already in the pack? Only the Magician knows--and on this mystery, our eloquent mage refuses to say a word.”_

\- The Fool’s Journey

***

‘ _Come to the quaint little town of Ealdor!_ ’ the brightly colored brochure had exclaimed over photos that were obviously (and poorly) edited, ‘ _Where dragons still live by the sea!_ ’

He didn’t know about dragons, but as far as Arthur was concerned, good taste had lived but died there a long time ago, and was possibly now starting to rot. It was easy to see as soon as he arrived, bombarded by billboards and signs plastered with various art fitting in with the dragon motif. If it was physically possible, the “quaint little town of Ealdor” would ooze pure kitsch through its garishly painted buildings and streets.

But while Arthur found the area completely unappealing, he could understand why his father had sent him there on reconnaissance; while it was obviously a huge tourist trap, it was one with potential that should be snapped up before anyone else had the chance.

Under the pretense of vacation, Arthur was visiting instead of his father; for if Uther had shown up himself, no doubt the rumor mill would start churning on the possibility of the multi-billion hotel tycoon opening one of his renowned Pendragon Suites in Ealdor. And while the discussion of expanding the chain was already in the works, the last thing the company needed was word to get out to their competitors about their interest.

Because Arthur’s presence alone could have possibly raised some suspicions as well, he had assumed an alias while signing into the bed and breakfast he was currently staying at (“The Dragon’s Call”… Was everything in the town required to have some sort of dragon theme?) as well as wear dark sunglasses and hooded sweatshirt while he walked about in public.

“You look like the Unabomber,” Gwaine drawled as they left the inn early to go out and explore. Arthur had figured the faster they check out the sights and sounds Ealdor had to offer, the sooner he could send his report to Uther and get the hell out of there.

“I do not!” Arthur snapped, although secretly he wasn‘t so sure. “What part of ‘I have to be undercover’ don’t you understand?”

Gwaine rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms behind his head, stretching out any remaining sleep from his body as they walked. “Right, you don’t look shady at all. First store we go into, they’re probably going to think you’re there to rob the place.”

“…No offense, Arthur, but he might have a point,” Lance piped up in agreement, shooting a sympathetic look at both of his friends as he continued, “You are bound to be noticed, especially dressed like that.”

About to argue some more, Arthur suddenly caught his reflection in a nearby store window and winced; he did indeed stick out like a sore thumb. Sighing in exasperation, he tugged the sweatshirt off, thankful he didn’t need it after all, especially in the growing heat of the morning sun. “That’s just great, then. We’re here to work, and we’re going to blow our cover the very first day.”

“You might be here to work, but I’m planning on enjoying myself.” Gwaine chuckled, his gaze following the path of some female joggers that ran by them. “Probably wouldn’t hurt for you to let off some of that steam of yours while you’re here as well.”

Gritting his teeth, Arthur glared at Gwaine’s very obvious leering; last thing he needed was his friend to get caught up in chasing after a new bed companion. “I’m _fine_. And if you’re not here to work, why are you here then?”

“To help your precious ‘cover’, of course,” Gwaine replied cheekily, slapping a hand against Arthur’s back. “Nothing is sadder than some poor sap on vacation by himself.”

“There’s nothing that says we can’t work and enjoy ourselves, is there?” Lance interrupted, always determined to be the voice of reason between the three of them. “After all, isn’t that kind of what your father wants, Arthur? For us to discover if the attractions would draw enough crowd for…his ‘business proposition’ to be viable?”

Grateful that Lance had enough sense not to mention anything about a hotel in public, Arthur ran fingers through his blond hair, belatedly wondering if he should have invested in a wig. Maybe he could find a hat at one of the souvenir stores that didn’t scream "tacky", but he wasn’t holding his breath. “I suppose so, though I doubt we will be able to find anything here that we’ll consider entertaining.”

Snorting loudly as he shook his head, Gwaine perused the clothing rack outside one of the shops. “Are you kidding me? We’re getting paid to be at the beach, to sample the local food and shops, and maybe sample some of the locals themselves.” He winked before he pulled up a light blue shirt that had been screen printed with the words, “Quit _dragon_ your feet!”, complete with horrendous clipart of a dragon in running gear. “You should get this one, it matches your eyes.”

“Shut up, Gwaine,” Arthur growled, shuddering slightly at the mere thought of wearing the abomination to fashion being held in Gwaine’s hands. “You won’t be paid at all if you keep wasting time like this.”

“Seriously, Arthur, you need to get laid; holding all that tension inside you can’t be healthy.” Gwaine clicked his tongue in mock concern. “If you don’t want us to go shopping while we’re here, what do you want us to do, oh fearless leader?”

Honestly, Arthur didn’t really know. It wasn’t like him to be completely unprepared when it came to dealing with company matters, but his dislike of the current area he was scouting was unusually prevalent over completing his work in a satisfactory manner. If Uther ever found out how poorly Arthur was handling the situation at the moment, he would probably chalk it up as another case of his son continuously disappointing him.

Lancelot sensed Arthur’s hesitation and cleared his throat. “Perhaps we can get something to eat and discuss a plan over breakfast? Maybe we can ask fellow tourists and get a survey of the most popular attractions and decide from there.”

God, Arthur knew there was a reason he kept Lance around; Gwaine, he wasn’t so sure most of the time. “Good idea. Let’s just hope we can find some place whose idea of fine cuisine doesn’t involve frying things in ten-year-old kitchen grease.”

“It adds flavor,” Gwaine quipped, shooting a grin in Arthur’s direction. “Not all of us have your delicate appetite. Besides, you can hardly talk when I’ve seen you drink that disgusting protein shake with grass clippings and who knows what else in it for breakfast.”

“It’s wheatgrass, not ‘grass clippings’. There is a difference, Gwaine,” Arthur argued, a bit miffed that his normal morning routine was being mocked. “And I drink it because it’s _healthy_. Some people don’t want to have arteries clogged with bacon fat, or liver failure before they turn forty because of too much drinking.”

Instead of feeling insulted by the description of his eating habits, Gwaine threw his head back and laughed heartily. He then paused, something seemingly catching his attention, and there was a gleam in his eye as he gestured to a nearby building. “If you’re so worried about your future health that you’re willing to ingest what’s basically liquid fertilizer, why don’t we find out if it even matters in the long run?"

All Arthur could do was gape in disbelief. “You’re joking.”

Perhaps Arthur had to give the shop kudos for being one of the only ones in the town to not have a dragon related name (though he was curious what the hell “Kilgharrah’s Keep” was supposed to mean), but it lost points for one glaring reason, specifically the neon sign in the window. “A psychic? Absolutely not. I’m not paying for some old lady pretending to be some sort of gypsy to give me a cracked out horoscope I could read for free in the newspaper.”

“Come on, just real quick, since we’re right here. You can ask if you should get boring egg whites on wheat toast, or be daring and actually order something with sausage.” Gwaine grabbed the door‘s handle, propping it open as he turned to look back. “Are you two coming or not?”

Obviously torn between what to do, Lance smiled sheepishly as he admitted, “I wouldn’t mind checking it out myself.”

At first Arthur was surprised, considering he could usually count on Lance to be on his side. But then he remembered that, while Lance was usually a level-headed and logical man, he was also one of the most superstitious people Arthur knew. As long as they had known each other, Lance always carried a rabbit’s foot with him, and was actually late to a first date once, just because he had trouble finding his lucky socks.

(Of course, when he and Gwen ended up hitting it off anyways, despite his lateness, it just reinforced the idea that the socks were indeed lucky.)

While he could deny Gwaine easily, Lance was another story, and it was apparent that Arthur had been outvoted on the matter. “Fine, we’re not staying long, and when it turns out what she says is complete crap, I get to say I told you so.”

As soon as Arthur walked inside, his nostrils were accosted by the rich aroma of burning incense. But while he was used to the patchouli his sister Morgana used to burn when she was in what he liked to call her “hippie phase”, this scent was actually half-way decent, a mixture of something earthy and spicy at the same time. Music comprised of bells and chanting floated through the air from carefully hidden speakers, and the walls were plastered with posters discussing different subjects such as “Finding One’s Inner Peace” and “When Your Stars Align”. It was exactly as cliché as he expected a psychic’s shop to be.

It was also completely empty.

“…They are open, right?” Gwaine was the first to ask, glancing back to make sure he had read the sign on the door correctly. It wouldn’t be the first time they had “accidentally” broken into a place, but Arthur really didn’t want to deal with explaining to their presence to the police.

A glimmer of hope rose in Arthur’s belly; maybe they didn’t have to go through with this completely ridiculous idea after all. “What kind of idiot leaves their store open and unattended--"

“The kind of idiot who was just in the other room.”

Jumping at the sudden voice, Arthur turned sharply, noticing a set of stairs off to the side with a sign that read, “EMPLOYEES ONLY” dangling from the rope hanging across the threshold. And at the top of the flight of steps stood an ethereal being, bathed in a golden glow.

It took Arthur a few seconds to realize it was sunlight filtering in from the window behind that gave the person an almost angelic look, and definitely not the man’s appearance itself. The man slowly went down a few steps, just confirming Arthur’s appraisal; sure, he had completely pale, alabaster skin (which seemed unusual for a resident of a beach-side town), striking high-profile cheekbones, and impossibly blue eyes that seemed to shine liquid gold for a brief moment. But he also had unruly dark hair that barely managed to cover the large ears that stuck out from the side of his head. Hardly the otherworldly creature that Arthur originally perceived, but most likely an employee of the shop.

“…Can I help you?” The man tilted his head to the side as he assessed all three of them quizzically, his gaze seemingly focusing mostly on Arthur in a way that unnerved him for some odd reason. It was almost as if the sensation that awoke in his body was on a spiritual level.

That was, of course, if Arthur actually believed in that sort of nonsense. Which he definitely didn’t.

“Do you know if the psychic is currently in?” It was only at the sound of Lance’s voice that broke Arthur from his reverie, making him realize they had all been gawking at the stranger in awkward silence for the past minute now. He didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse, and instead of dwelling on it, he just listened carefully to the man’s response.

“Yes, I’m pretty sure.” The man laughed softly, apparently delighted in some sort of private joke before he answered, “That would be me.”

“Definitely not some old lady pretending to be a gypsy, huh?” Gwaine whispered at Arthur’s side, straightening up instantly when the man laughed again.

“No, not a gypsy, though I can wear a headscarf if you really want me to get into the whole act.”

It was obvious by the shock on Lance and Gwaine’s faces (which were so amusing, Arthur wished he had a camera to capture the moment) that the man’s claim to be a psychic was authentic, but Arthur remained steadfast to his doubts. “Great, could you maybe come down and do…whatever you do for these two so we can hurry and get out of here?”

“You don’t need to be so impatient, Arthur,” the man lightly chided, exhaling with sigh before he nodded. “Just give me a moment and I’ll be right with you.”

As soon as the man retreated up the stairs, both Gwaine and Lance turned to Arthur, awe still registering in their expressions. “Oh my God, I was just kidding at first, but this might be the best idea I’ve ever had!” Gwaine proclaimed, trying to keep his voice down but still shooting a glance towards the ceiling. “Maybe even better than Senior Spring Break.”

“’Finding a random group of girls and trying to fit them all into the hotel’s hot tub’ was hardly a good idea, let alone your best. We were nearly arrested for that, remember?” Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose at the memory; it was just their luck that some of the girls had to be underage at the time. If they had initiated “Phase Two: Breast-ageddon” of Gwaine’s plan, they probably would’ve ended up in serious trouble. “And I fail to see how this is your best plan either. Do you really think this guy is psychic?”

“He knew your name, Arthur,” Lance countered, his voice the same hushed tone as Gwaine, but more out of reverence than anything else. “He knew who you were.”

“A lot of people know who I am,” Arthur curtly responded, stepping closer to idly examine one of the figurines on a nearby shelf. He was trying come off as nonchalant, as if the idea of a complete stranger knowing his name didn’t bother him as much as it really did. “I knew I should have kept the hoodie; he probably recognized me as soon as--”

“And don’t touch anything!”

At the sound of the man shouting from upstairs, Arthur jerked his hand back from the figurine he was about to pick up, unable to look Lance or Gwaine in the eyes as his cheeks burned with embarrassment.

Arthur decided he didn’t want to see the satisfaction in their faces anyway.

***

Gaius, Merlin lamented with a pained groan, was definitely going to kill him.

If his friend Will was there, he would probably laugh and tease Merlin, claiming that no one had ever died from being subjected to a raised eyebrow. But just because it hadn’t happened before didn’t mean it was impossible. And if anyone could commit homicide with just one withered look, it would definitely be Merlin’s uncle.

To be fair, Merlin knew his impending demise was completely his fault. Gaius had trusted him to watch over the shop while he ran his errands for the day, but as soon as the older man had left, Merlin had snuck back to his room upstairs, falling into the comfort of his bed once more.

The clock had read 2:04 the night before (or technically, earlier that morning) when he had finally put down his current dusty, ancient tome of choice, too absorbed in the study of arcane symbols and tongues of old to notice time passing. He was paying for it now, however; how Merlin managed not to yawn as Gaius had listed off tasks for the day, he could never tell.

As eager as he was to catch up on his sleep, Merlin had taken some precautions. True, he had left the shop open and unattended, but he wasn’t that concerned. For one, crime was hardly a problem in Ealdor, even if some of the older residents continuously griped about how the increasing number of tourists was bound to change that. Even if it was, there wasn’t anything in the shop that could be really worth stealing. The cash in the register, maybe, but in addition to a traditional security system, Merlin had also personally placed a protection spell on it, making it so only Gaius or himself could retrieve the money inside. He used to implement a back-up plan where, if a would-be thief did manage to gain access to the bills, they would probably be caught red-handed, literally. He had thought it was kind of a clever idea, until the enchantment backfired on him and he was forced to wear gloves for over a week, no amount of scrubbing making his hands any less than a dark shade of scarlet.

A barrier spell had also been cast around the perimeter, so if the ringing of the bell on the shop door didn’t alert him enough to the fact that he now had customers, the prickly sensation of his magic buzzing against his skin did, nipping in the bud any possibility of having a longer nap. Fighting back a grumble and instead forcing himself into “professional mode” (though really, who was so desperate to have a psychic reading on an early Sunday morning?), Merlin sleepily started to make his way down the stairs, prepared to rattle off his usual rehearsed spiel.

That was until his magic involuntarily rushed out of him, beating him in the race to the bottom of the steps to nip at the heels of the blond man standing there, as if it was an overeager puppy welcoming its master home.

Struggling inwardly to keep his composure (especially when the stranger referred to Merlin as an “idiot”), Merlin was completely mortified at his magic’s reaction to a man he had never met before. He was aware that his powers sometimes had a mind of its own, working with him one moment and against him the next, and he swore it had moods depending on different people. But usually a sickening display of affection like this had been reserved for family members and friends, and never had it been this strong-willed.

And yeah, maybe he should have kept his sarcasm in check when it came to customers (or at least Gaius insisted he should--many, many, many times), but Merlin was cranky and tired and confused as to why his magic seemed to be anxiously resisting as his tried to draw it back completely into his body, as if it was clinging to the blond man like he was its only lifeline. So he felt a bit hurt about that too.

Why his magic didn’t climb all over the other two men that were standing in puzzlement nearby (it just gave a cursory assessment of their character before humming in approval), Merlin didn’t know, and didn’t want to think about it, to be quite honest. While he was curious about the presence of all three of them, he found his focus was mostly on the one he was spiritually drawn to, as if his powers were involuntarily threading a bond between the two of them; his fingers twitched with the urge to swat at it, but he knew he would just come off as a little unhinged if he started flailing wildly at what appeared to the average person as just empty air.

It was understatement to say he was immensely relieved when the question about a psychic was finally posed, though Merlin couldn’t bite back the laughter at the thought. He knew he didn’t fit the usual stereotype, but it never failed to amuse him when people expected someone else. Like an “old lady pretending to be a gypsy”, apparently.

Also, while he was perfectly content in letting them believe he had heard the whispered comment because of some mystical reason, the simple truth was that Merlin was gifted with exceptional hearing. Will once joked that it was no wonder, considering the size of Merlin’s ears, but had quickly apologized when Merlin threatened to turn him into a toad. Will didn’t have to know that Merlin couldn’t really do that.

(Well, he probably could; it was just turning him back that would be the hard part.)

The blond man was once again being rude towards Merlin, just a little more subtly this time. It was obvious from his tone of voice that he was one of those people that had little to no respect for Merlin’s line of work. He could actually understand that, respect it even, considering the majority of psychics in the country were fakes that sullied the reputation of those with true gifts. But it didn’t mean Merlin had to like being judged before he even had a chance to prove himself.

It still bothered him why his magic seemed so attracted to the surly young man. Sure, the stranger had hair the color of sun-ripened wheat, bronzed skin stretched over firm, toned muscles, and steel blue eyes that seemed to glint like the edge of the blade. But while the physical aspect wasn’t half-bad (Merlin would’ve been blind not to notice), the personality part seemed to be completely lacking, and it made no sense why his magic would be so excited over someone’s appearance alone.

 _Great_ , Merlin mentally whined, _my magic has a hard-on for an utter prat_.

 _Arthur_ , a voice practically purred inside his head in response, _his name is Arthur_.

Whether he “accidentally” let Arthur’s name slip out of his mouth or not, Merlin was willing to use it to his advantage. Wishing he could revel in the look of shock on their faces (even if Arthur seemed to hide it surprisingly well), he scurried back upstairs, leaning against his door after closing it behind him. His head hit the wood with a low thunk as the events over the past few minutes swirled through his mind. Just what the hell was that all about?

Sighing, he released his grip on the handle as he quickly moved to change; if Gaius happened to come back to find him giving readings in his bedclothes, Merlin would definitely be a dead man, regardless of possible witnesses.

Shooting a jealous look at Aithusa, who had curled up in the still warm sheets as soon as he had left, Merlin asked softly, “So, what do you think I should do?”

“Meow,” was Aithusa’s only response, stretching languidly before hopping down and rubbing against Merlin’s legs. Picking up the kitten, Merlin chuckled as he nuzzled the feline, ignoring the white fur flying off everywhere. “As usual, you’re no help.”

The voices carrying from downstairs reminded him that he didn’t have time to dawdle, so Merlin reluctantly placed Aithusa down before dressing in brown corduroys and a blue polo shirt. Running his fingers sloppily through his hair, Merlin assessed his appearance in the mirror and wondered if he should throw on a headscarf after all.

Honestly, Merlin hadn’t really meant anything by it when he belatedly remembered to shout down at the group with instructions not to touch anything (Gaius was just really particular about people touching his things), but judging by the silence that followed, it seemed his timing was impeccable.

The thought that Arthur might have been the one reprimanded filled him a strange sense of glee, and a smile spread across his face as he made his way back downstairs to the group, Aithusa closely following his heels. “So, who’s going first?”

***

“How much longer is this going to take?”

Arthur easily commiserated with Gwaine on the length of Lance’s reading the first time it was mentioned. But after the subject had been brought up six times in the past fifteen minutes, Arthur was growing aggravated on top of impatient. “I don’t know, Gwaine.”

“I knew I should have gone first,” Gwaine continued with a groan, sprawled out over chairs in a position that didn’t look comfortable, yet seemed to work for him. “Lance is probably asking him to plan out every possible choice of his day.”

Gritting his teeth, Arthur silently prayed Gwaine’s assumptions weren’t correct. “You’re the one that wanted to come here, so you can’t complain.”

“You’ve been shooting my ideas down left and right this morning. Are you ever going to stop griping?”

“I am not--”

“Look,” Gwaine coolly interrupted, all his normal easygoing demeanor vanishing in an instant. “I know you don’t want to be on this trip, but I also know you’re trying to prove to your father that you won’t fuck up a deal this big. So you’re going to act differently and do stuff you don’t want to if you don’t want people to know the real reason you’re here; that means buying some souvenirs, go swimming at the beach, check out the scenery, and maybe put a damn smile on your face like you’re actually enjoying yourself.”

As much as he hated to admit it, Gwaine might actually have a valid point and Arthur had been just too blind to see it. “In other words, you’re saying I should put ‘my big boy pants on and shut up’?”

“You got it,” Gwaine cheekily gave Arthur a thumbs up. “And I knew I could get you to say that eventually.”

Arthur snorted. “It’s not really language I would normally use, especially in the board room. Can you imagine the heart attack my father would have if I ever told our shareholders to ’check themselves before they wreck themselves’?”

A snigger emerged from Gwaine’s lips. “Before or after he strangles you for ‘besmirching the family name’ yet again?”

“I’m pretty sure ‘before’, Gwaine. Not sure my father could do much after I’ve finally killed him by being a disappointment to him all these years.”

“I doubt Uther Pendragon would let a little thing like death stop him; he would probably rise from the grave if he thought his pride and joy was in danger.”

“Yeah…” Arthur replied somberly, knowing that “his pride and joy” referred to Uther’s company rather than his own flesh and blood. Over time, the pain of his desires being placed behind business had lessened, but it still stung to that very day.

And Gwaine had known Arthur long enough to realize this without being told, clapping a hand on Arthur’s back. “Hey, don’t think about it too much. You’re not in the board room now, and you still have time to do this job for your father. So you can relax and not worry about anything and everything for once… Except maybe what the cat is doing to your shoes.”

Of course, there was a cat in the shop, and it had just been Arthur’s luck that it was drawn to him like a magnet. He tried swatting it away from his Italian leather shoes for the umpteenth time, shooting a murderous glance in the kitten’s direction. The little hell beast just meowed before hopping up into Arthur’s lap, its claws digging deeply into his thighs.

This was the reason Arthur hated cats.

After what seemed like eons, the beaded curtain that separated the waiting room from the private one in the back was finally pushed aside, and Lance joined them once more, an indescribable expression on his face.

“Lance, do you need a cigarette? Because it looks like he totally just blew your mind,” Gwaine snickered, as if his crude joke made him the cleverest man in the world.

Ignoring Gwaine’s horrible sense of humor, Arthur studied Lance carefully, concern starting to well up inside him when his friend still didn’t speak. “…Well? What happened? What did he say?”

Lance blinked repeatedly as he broke out of his stupor, giving them a small smile, as if he had just noticed their presence. “He knew… He knew I was thinking about proposing to Gwen, and he said I should do it.”

Arthur huffed. “We’ve been telling you that for nearly a month now.”

“Not me,” Gwaine corrected, shaking his head. “I say it’s crazy to be stuck with someone for the rest of your life.”

“It’s not crazy, I love her. But…” Lance paused before admitting solemnly, “I was worried if I can ever make her happy enough. There’s far better men than myself out there.”

“God, quit being so damn noble! They might be out there, but you’re the one she’s with.” Gwaine rolled his eyes, muttering something about lovesick men before adding, “Even I know that you two are perfect for each other; you’re like her freaking knight in shining armor.”

“Did he say anything else?” Arthur interrupted, his irritation from earlier returning with a vengeance. Anyone with eyes could see Lance was smitten, and if the psychic had used that advantage to convince Lance of his abilities…

Something dark twisted inside his gut as Arthur’s imagination ran away from him freely. To pretend you were something weren’t was deplorable enough; to use a man’s emotions for monetary gain was simply unforgivable. He clenched his fists into tight balls, the urge to go and tell off the fraud rolling over him in angry waves.

“He did, but I can’t tell you right now.”

Jerking his head up, Arthur fixed Lance with a sharp, piercing gaze, and was shocked when Lance actually turned away. It just made Arthur’s curiosity grow even more--just what the hell had been said?

Not willing to drop the subject so easily, Gwaine probed for more. “Come on, you can‘t just say that and expect us not to ask about it. Was it true at least?”

Really, Gwaine should have known better; if anyone could keep a secret, it was Lance. “Why don’t you go in and find out?” he offered instead, gesturing back towards the room. “It’s your turn anyways.”

Shooting Lance a look that promised he would pester his friend for answers later, Gwaine then turned to salute them mockingly. “Be back soon. Maybe this guy can predict the next time I’ll get lucky.”

A blessed calm fell over the room after Gwaine left; Lance seemed to be caught up in his own thoughts, and Arthur was still seething. Over this trip, over his father, over being in stuck in a psychic’s shop, over the possibility of Lance being swindled, over the stupid cat that still refused to detach itself from his lap--

“Arthur.”

The sound of his name jerked him back to reality, and he stopped grinding his teeth when he realized Lance was staring at him with unbridled empathy. “What?”

“Please calm down, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Don’t tell me _you’re_ all of a sudden a mind reader too,” Arthur snapped, wincing afterwards at the aggravation in his tone. Lance hadn’t really done anything wrong, and thus shouldn’t be the target for Arthur’s current frustrations.

Lance didn’t seem too surprised at Arthur’s outburst, though he did flinch slightly. “No,” he responded stoically, as he always did (not matching Arthur’s anger with his own, nor with a Gwaine-like jest), “but it’s pretty clear that you’re upset.”

Arthur rubbed a hand over his face as he stifled a groan. Did he really come off as that miserable? “It’s not just that. Gwaine thinks I should just forget everything and just enjoy myself.”

While he had listened to Gwaine’s advice (and was begrudgingly starting to see some sense in it), Arthur valued Lance’s opinion just as well, if not more so. And unlike Gwaine, Lance took his time to view all the angles of the situation before answering, “Maybe he’s right, but I know it’s hard if not impossible for you to do so. You throw every fiber of your being into your work, and take it as a personal offense if it doesn’t go the way you’ve planned, beating yourself up for it. Just… Just try to have more faith in yourself, Arthur.”

The bitter thought of how he had run out of his faith a long time ago screamed in his head, and Arthur forced his mouth into a grim smile. “Thanks, Lance.”

If Lance wasn’t convinced by Arthur’s response, he was too tactful to say otherwise. He didn’t really have the chance anyways, for Gwaine came back at that very moment, looking just as dazed as he had.

“If I had known all it took to get Gwaine to shut up was to come here, I would have agreed immediately,” Arthur weakly joked after a long pause; it bothered him more than it had with Lance, because it usually took a lot to shock Gwaine. The one time Arthur had accidentally seen his friend’s browsing history was enough proof of that.

“Arthur,” Gwaine finally croaked, his voice akin to pieces of sandpaper being scraped together, “I’m going to need a list of everyone who might hate your guts.”

“…What?” Arthur hadn’t expected that at all.

“He said I’d fall for my friend’s closest enemy,” Gwaine explained, shaking his head as if he was ridding himself of the effects of some sort of spell. “And everyone loves Lance within five minutes of meeting him, so that just leaves you.”

They seriously couldn’t be believing all this mystical mumbo-jumbo. Arthur was sure that this was all some elaborate hoax, and his friends were just seeing how long they could pull his leg before he figured it out. “I thought you said it’s crazy to be stuck with someone for the rest of your life.”

“Why do you think I want a list? This way I know which people to avoid forever.”

The solution was so fitting of Gwaine that Arthur couldn’t help but chuckle. “Fine, I’ll give you names, but how far back are we talking about? I don’t think you’ll have a problem skipping a hook-up with our fifth grade teacher; I think Ms. Collins despised you more anyways.”

“And she probably wouldn’t be a MILF anymore either,” Gwaine lamented, instilling in Arthur plenty of mental images he certainly did not want.

Thankfully, Lance changed the subject before bile could rise too far in Arthur’s throat. “Arthur, you should do a reading yourself.”

“No way in hell.” Not only had the excursion had been a complete waste of time, Arthur saw no appeal of wasting money to hear vague garbage thrown his way.

“Don’t be such a princess.” Gwaine crooned, as if insulting Arthur would get him to change his mind. Which, it actually did, or maybe it was just the need to show he wasn’t scared. What he would be afraid of exactly, he wasn’t sure, but he could guess that it would be the next thing Gwaine would hurl at him if Arthur didn’t agree.

Grumbling something about going on vacation alone next time, Arthur unceremoniously pried the cat off his thigh, inhaling sharply from the stinging cuts that its claws left behind. Right, that settled it; even if he didn’t want a reading, he was determined to give the guy a piece of his mind for letting wild, dangerous animals that destroyed expensive designer clothing roam freely through the shop. Flinging the beaded curtain to the side with a loud thwack, Arthur stormed angrily into the back room, halting mid-step when he noticed the man hunched over a small table in defeat.

“…Oh!” The man’s head sprung up automatically at Arthur’s presence, and he quickly wiped at his reddened eyes, almost as if he had been crying. “I didn’t expect to see you back here.”

There was a white blur that rushed by Arthur’s feet, and soon the kitten was rubbing itself against its owner, purring madly in attempt to provide comfort. It also reminded Arthur why he had came. “Your cat ruined my shoes, snagged my pants, and used my legs for its own personal scratching post.”

The man paled, which seemed impossible, given his already fair complexion. “Really?” he exclaimed, his fingers stilling in the cat’s fur as he looked down at it in complete disbelief, “Usually Aithusa is affectionate with customers.”

“The thing is, it was _too_ affectionate,” Arthur clarified as he plopped into the chair in front of the table, draping his arm across the back of the seat. “So, what exactly is it that you do?”

A small assured smile spread over the man’s features. “I pegged you for someone who doesn’t believe in psychics, Arthur.”

“Just because I don’t believe in this stuff doesn’t mean I’m not curious.” Cradling one side of his jaw in his free hand, Arthur added, “But first off, what’s your name?”

“Why do you want to know?” The obvious mistrust in the man’s face was ironic, considering the situation.

“It’s not that hard of a question for you, is it? You know mine, after all.” How exactly he did was still bugging Arthur; he had been in the tabloids a few times when paparazzi couldn’t find a celebrity to hound, and Pendragon Suites was quickly becoming a renowned hotel chain, but he wasn’t egotistic enough to think his name was used in the common household.

“…Oh, right.” The man squirmed slightly, as if being reminded of his knowledge made him nervous, which made no damn sense in Arthur’s eyes. Shouldn’t he be gloating and going on about how he read Arthur’s name in the stars or something? “I’m Merlin.”

It took all of Arthur’s willpower not to slam his head against the table in frustration. “Seriously, your real name. I don’t care what you tell customers you’re trying to impress.”

“My real name _is_ Merlin,” the man (or Merlin) insisted. “I would pull out my ID to prove it, but it’s upstairs.”

Arthur blinked. Repeatedly. “Did your mother hate you or something?”

Merlin laughed once--that cheerful, tinkling sound he had let out earlier on the stairs--before his expression grew poignant. “...It was my dad’s idea, actually.”

There was such reverence in Merlin’s voice that Arthur knew the matter was delicate, and he had the common sense not to press it. “Whatever, _Merlin_. Are you honestly going to sit there and tell me you’re the real thing?”

“Tell you what,” Merlin offered as he leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, “I’ll give you a tarot reading, free of charge, just because I want to see the look of shock on your face when I prove I’m right.”

“Like that will ever happen,” Arthur retorted, scooting his own chair closer. As much as he hated to admit, his interest was growing more and more as time passed. He wondered if he would find out why Lance and Gwaine were like the living dead after their readings. Besides, it was free; that definitely appealed to his inner businessman. “What do I have to do?”

Flipping through the pile of cards near him, Merlin deftly pulled out one and placed it carefully down at the center of the table. “After we draw your significator card, you can shuffle through the deck of cards while thinking about the question you want guidance on.”

Taking the deck that was handed to him, Arthur blindly shuffled them, his focus on the lone card on the table. “’King of Wands’?”

Picking up the card, Merlin held it up as he explained, his tone suggesting he had this conversation many times before: “The significator card represents you in the reading, and the Wands suit is usually used for people with blond hair and blue eyes, such as yourself.”

“What, you’re basing it on what I look like?” Arthur frowned; already he was having a hard time taking this whole tarot reading thing seriously.

“Yes, Arthur, even though I’m not sure if the rest of the card’s description fits you.” Merlin crinkled his nose thoughtfully as he studied Arthur. “Just be lucky I didn’t pick The Fool for you.”

Not sure if he wanted to argue about being called a fool or asking what Merlin meant about the rest of the card’s description, Arthur decided he just wanted to finish the reading already and be done with it. “…The question, do I have to say it out loud?”

Confusion flickered in Merlin’s eyes, and he tilted his head to the side curiously. He looked so owlish, Arthur had to stifle the urge to laugh. “Um, I don’t think so, but it would make it kind of hard to do a reading for you if I don’t know what you’re asking about.”

Well, the idea of Merlin being a mind reader after all was definitely thrown out. “Fine. I guess I want to know if my father’s latest business deal will go through,” Arthur replied half-heartedly, hoping that was vague enough it would raise any suspicions.

Murmuring something noncommittal, Merlin chewed absentmindedly at a hangnail on his thumb. “I don’t know if that will work either; the question is supposed to be about you, though I can try, or change the significator so it fits your father better. Though, I’ve never done a long distance reading before--”

“Never mind,” Arthur interrupted, not willing to make this whole thing overly complicated. “I want to know if the point of me visiting Ealdor will be worth it in the end. Is that good enough?”

Maybe that was a little more suspicious than his first question, and he could tell Merlin was trying to meet his gaze again, but Arthur ignored him as he unceremoniously handed back the deck of cards. Merlin opened his mouth to say something, but then stopped, and instead began to flip the cards in a pattern on the table. Some were face-up, while others were still face-down, and Arthur questioned the reasoning to himself.

Merlin hummed pensively, tapping his fingers just inches from the cards, his brow furrowed in concentration. “…The reason you’re in Ealdor is your father’s business deal, isn‘t it?”

Shit. _Shit_. Arthur’s heart jumped right into his throat and pounded against his vocal cords. After flopping his mouth open and shut a few times, he managed to hiss, “How… How the hell do you…”

“Uh, I think it’s part of my job description,” Merlin replied, clearly enjoying Arthur’s reaction. “And also because it’s simple: for one thing, you had asked about your father’s business deal before changing the subject of your question to Ealdor, and secondly, look at the cards.”

Glancing down, Arthur half-expected the pictures to come to life. “What am I supposed to be looking for?”

There was a brief pause, and Merlin ran a hand through his hair, chuckling nervously. “Right, sorry, I always forget that it’s not that obvious if you haven’t done this before. The Ace of Pentacles, it usually means something involving business, and the card below it, The Emperor, usually stands for a father figure. So it wasn’t too hard to put two and two together.”

Arthur had no way of knowing if Merlin was telling the truth, but felt himself get drawn in all the same. Was this the sensation Lance and Gwaine experienced? “What about the other cards? Like the one on top of the Ace--what does that mean when it’s crossed like that?”

“The Ten of Wands,” Merlin explained carefully, in a manner that Arthur instinctively didn’t like, “It usually means the feeling of being burdened down by something, and in this position, it’s supposed to represent an obstacle in your way.”

He could tell Merlin was waiting for him to say something, and Arthur just clenched his jaw as he seethed, “Is this some sort of joke? Did Gwaine put you up to this?”

“What? No!”

“He did, didn’t he?” Arthur continued, swearing underneath his breath. “Damn it, he probably told you everything, and now you’re just repeating things he told you.”

“ _Arthur_.” Merlin’s eyes flashed angrily, and Arthur felt a shiver of fear run up his back. He couldn’t understand why; Merlin hardly seemed like someone others would consider threatening. “Don’t be so full of yourself. While both of your friends briefly mentioned you, they were more interested in readings for _themselves_. They didn‘t tell me anything about you.”

While he wasn’t sure he could trust Merlin, Arthur realized he could trust Lance (and even Gwaine), and felt slightly ashamed for doubting them. “What else do the cards say?”

“Why should I tell you? Are you going to accuse me of tricking you again?”

“Look, I just thought--”

“Forget it,” Merlin replied bitterly, moving to gather the cards, “If you’re not going to believe me, why should I bother?”

If their positions were switched (and what a weird thought that was), Arthur would be asking the same question, just with a lot more shouting involved. Before he could stop himself, his hand shot out to grab Merlin’s wrist. “Wait. I’m sorry, please continue.”

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Merlin looked as if he was having an inner debate, and Arthur could even feel his pulse quicken before Merlin pulled his hand away. “Okay, but I’m not going to explain every card to you, just the way I interpret it. Basically, it seems as if you’re feeling stressed about this business deal, because you feel it’s your way to prove yourself, either to your father or someone else.”

Arthur bit his tongue to prevent himself from voicing his serious doubts. Forcing on a mask of indifference, he simply nodded. “Go on.”

“But you’ll find someone that’s willing to help you, if you let them. A new friend, or…” Merlin trailed off. His face colored; the pink rushing to the tips of his ears.

“A bit of a romantic, aren’t you?” Arthur snorted. “I’m the third person you’ve mentioned a relationship to today.”

“The Two of Cups doesn’t always mean love!” Merlin exclaimed a little too quickly, his voice squeaking with embarrassment. “It just means you’ll meet someone new. Probably.”

“That’s great and all, I guess. But what does that have to do with my question?”

Finally starting to overturn the face-down cards, Merlin revealed the significance as he went up the line, “That’s the whole point; you have friends that are reaching out to help you, but you don’t want them to know you need their help. And because of that--”

A gasp escaped from Merlin’s mouth, and Arthur stared at the last two cards before stating the obvious: “…Well, that’s just _cheerful_.”

  


“The Five of Swords means while you might get what you want, it won’t feel right to you; you’ll just feel empty inside. And The Tower…” Merlin bit his bottom lip before feebly offering, “It doesn’t necessarily mean something bad.”

Arthur tapped the card in question with an incredulous grimace. “Need I point out that it’s a picture of people falling out of tower? That’s on fire? _Because it’s been struck by lightning_?”

Merlin shrugged sheepishly as he reached for the cards as a means of a distraction, babbling slightly, “Yeah, but like the Death and Devil cards, it has a bad reputation. Really, it could just mean a sudden change--”

“I want another reading,” Arthur blurted out, the sensible side of him denouncing that he was being completely ridiculous. “Just not with tarot. Don’t you people have crystal balls or something like that?”

The effect that his question had on Merlin was surprising: He instantly stiffened, inhaling sharply. “...Yeah, something like that, but it costs extra.”

“You probably already know that money is not an issue,” Arthur replied haughtily as he dug out his wallet, pausing when he felt Merlin’s bemused stare upon him.

Either Merlin was an amazing actor, or he really _didn’t_ know that money was not an issue for Arthur. All he appeared to know was Arthur’s name and that he was here on business for his father.

The idea that he had retained some anonymity comforted Arthur a little bit, yet disturbed him as well. He tried to think back to remember if either Lance or Gwaine had used his name in the shop earlier, and Merlin had merely overheard. He knew they hadn’t, but he still clung to possibility like it was a well-worn security blanket.

Arthur pulled out a few bills and slid them across the table in Merlin’s direction. “That enough? If so, go on then.”

Merlin hesitated briefly before handing some of the money back. “It doesn’t cost _that_ much extra,” he mumbled.

Despite the circumstances, Arthur was secretly impressed; Merlin could have easily taken the entire amount without saying a thing, and Arthur felt a small twinge of respect flicker inside of him. “Keep it. For the tarot reading.”

With a wordless nod, Merlin stood up to put the money in the register and get a receipt for Arthur. His actions were subdued, as if he was trying to drag them out as long as possible to stall for time. What should have taken a few seconds was stretched out into minutes, but before Arthur could complain, Merlin finally slid a large crystal rock across the table, holding it only by the ornate metal stand it rested on.

“I thought it was supposed to be a ball?” Arthur raised an eyebrow as he examined the crystal with a critical eye. In its raw and uncut form, he could see how it could come off as more authentic and mystical to those who believed in it.

“Yeah, well, that’s what your one friend said as well,” Merlin joked faintly, though his voice was hollow and without mirth. “Place your hand on top of it, please.”

When Arthur touched the top of the crystal, a slight spark ran up his fingers and through his arm. He figured it was just his imagination. Or maybe there was some device rigged into the crystal that gave a slight shock whenever someone touched it. “Merlin,” he snapped, “What was--”

The rest of Arthur’s words died on his lips when he noticed the dramatic change that had overcome Merlin. His fingers were gripping the base of the crystal so firmly that his knuckles were turning white, and his entire body was trembling like a tensed spring on the verge of breaking from being over-tightened.

Most unnerving of all, Merlin’s eyes were wide and unfocused, staring at something that was intangible and non-physical. The golden hue that Arthur had seen earlier (and had written off as being a trick of the light) was back, causing such a visceral reaction in Arthur that he let go of the crystal. “What the hell?”

Then, as if some invisible cord holding him up had been cut, Merlin suddenly flopped forward in his seat. His arms propped against the table surface were his only means of support as he let out a shuddering breath.

Oh, Arthur understood everything now. Merlin was indeed one hell of an actor, and for a moment, Arthur almost actually fell for the whole charade. But after recovering from the initial shock, he began piecing together the truth of what had happened. The only thing he couldn’t explain right away was the eye thing, but given the chance, he could probably figure it out.

“You need to get out.”

Too absorbed in the steps of his plan to expose Merlin for fraud (or at least get a refund for himself _and_ the others), Arthur blinked in disbelief at Merlin’s words. “ _Excuse me_?”

“You need to get out,” Merlin repeated, raising a hand to his ashen face while desperately holding Arthur’s gaze. “Out of Ealdor, before it’s too late.”

***

Ridiculous. It was completely ridiculous for Merlin to act this way. He was a grown man, after all (even if he did look younger than his twenty-three years); he should not be running to his mother every time he had a problem.

Yet there he was, sneaking in through the back patio door of his childhood home, struggling to push the horror of the day’s events out of his mind.

It isn’t fair, he wanted to whine as he nudged off his boots before padding down the hall; he hated doing crystal readings and everyone close to him knew it. His mother wouldn’t even mention the word “crystal” in Merlin’s presence without growing pale and apologetic. Even Will had the unusual tact of never bringing it up whenever they discussed Merlin’s line of work.

Only Gaius had gently pushed the idea, even agreeing to raise the price of the reading so it wouldn’t be a popular choice among customers.

“ _You have a gift, Merlin_ ,” he had once explained when he saw Merlin scramble away at his first sight of the crystal after many years, “ _And I know what happened last time was tragic, but maybe you can change the future of others._ ”

That was the thought that managed to get him through it. Merlin was trying to help people in the only way he knew how, misguided as it may have seemed to others, like Arthur.

With a pained groan, Merlin hit his forehead against the hallway wall a few times, stopping when he heard the framed pictures his mother had hung vibrate from the force of his actions. Stupid, stupid, stupid; just why the hell did he agree to give Arthur a crystal reading?

The one he had given Arthur’s one friend (he was guessing it was the one called Gwaine) actually hadn’t been that bothersome. Merlin never enjoyed how the crystal forced images inside his mind--nor the pounding headache he had afterwards--but Gwaine’s apparent future was far from upsetting. If anything, it had been slightly satisfying to see a mysterious dark-haired, green-eyed beauty slap and belittle a man Merlin was now sure was supposed to be Arthur, based on his appearance and how he stood close to Gwaine in the vision.

The whole thing grew embarrassing, however, when the images switched to Gwaine and the woman heavily kissing; Merlin hadn’t been able to look Gwaine directly in the eyes since then, feeling like he had intruded on something personal.

So maybe the fact that Gwaine’s reading had just made him very uncomfortable--and had only caused him a little distress--was why Merlin had reluctantly agreed to do one for Arthur as well.

There was a extremely good reason Merlin hated dealing with the crystal, and it appeared that fate decided it hadn’t fucked with him enough recently.

“God,” he whispered hoarsely as he turned to slump against the wall, struggling to keep his composure. Hopefully no one would pass by at that moment, because he wasn’t sure how he could account for his current state: _Hello! Oh no, I’m not okay, thanks for asking. I just saw how a man was going to die and he doesn’t believe me, how about this weather, huh?_

Even without the crystal in front of him, the outcome of Arthur’s reading still flashed before Merlin. The imagery didn’t really make much sense, just bits and pieces that spun around faster and faster until he felt physically dizzy, but of one thing he was absolutely certain: if he Arthur remained any longer in Ealdor, his life would be in danger.

Maybe he could have handled the situation a little better and told Arthur why he should leave--instead of just telling him he needed to get out--but at that moment Merlin had been trying very hard not throw up on Arthur’s precious shoes.

Arthur had been instantly defensive, ranting something about not having to deal with threats from fake psychics who took advantage of their customers. For a moment Merlin wished his prediction _did_ come true, because Arthur had to be the most infuriating, entitled human being he had ever met.

Only for a brief moment though, before Merlin had instantly grown ashamed at himself for being so selfish. So instead he did the only thing he could think of; he refunded the cost of all three men if Arthur promised to leave that instant.

At first, Arthur looked like he was going to argue some more, but then had begrudgingly agreed, having the sheer gall to call his friends in to make sure they received their full refund. Merlin might regret losing such a business loss in the future, but as far as he was concerned, there was nothing more valuable than a single life.

He had barely ushered them out of the shop and switched the sign to “Closed” before he collapsed by the front door, all his energy completely drained. He remained in that spot, unmoving even as Aithusa circled around him while meowing pitifully, until he heard the jingling of keys and Gaius trying to push open the door. “Merlin, why are you--”

“Bad reading,” Merlin answered pitifully before his uncle could finish, shifting so he was no longer blocking the entrance.

Instantly Gaius had switched to caregiver mode, remnants of his years as a family physician before he retired emerging. He checked Merlin’s vitals, tut-tutting as he made a cup of herbal tea that wouldn’t smell delectable even if Merlin had the stomach for it. He only asked Merlin what the vision was about once, but at the fear that sprung into Merlin’s features, quickly dropped the subject matter.

“Come on,” Gaius commanded gently as he tugged Merlin to his feet, proving he was still spry despite his elderly age, “Take the rest of the day off. Hunith is expecting us for Sunday dinner. Maybe you could go early and help.”

Thankful for the possibility of any distraction, Merlin pulled Gaius into tight hug, hiding his face so his uncle wouldn’t see if he started to cry again. Gaius seemed to sense it anyways, giving Merlin a supportive pat on his back. “It’ll be okay, Merlin. I just wished I could do something to help, but I could never see these things as well as you do.”

Neither of them said it, but the sentiment hung like a swaying noose in the silence between them just the same: _I wish no one had to see these things._

Pushing darker thoughts from his head, Merlin now focused on locating his mother in the massive Victorian house, his feet instinctively heading in the direction of where he knew he would most likely find her. Forcing a smile on his face, Merlin popped his head in the kitchen. “Mom?”

The pantry door closed to reveal Hunith standing behind it, a collection of dry goods filling her arms. “Merlin! You’re here early!”

“Let me help you with that,” Merlin offered, crossing the expanse with long strides before he took some of the load and placed it on a nearby counter. Beaming up at him gratefully, Hunith stopped, reaching up to cup his cheek. “What’s wrong?”

While he had regained some color to his skin since the incident, Merlin knew it had been foolish to think his mother wouldn’t notice his haggard appearance. “I had to do two readings with the crystal today.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Hunith cooed sympathetically, wiping her hands on her apron before pulling two cookies out of a jar. Placing them on a plate, she poured a glass of milk and then handed them both to Merlin. “Sit down and tell me all about it.”

Merlin wanted to argue that he wasn’t a child any more, but with the mood he was in, he just meekly nodded. Besides, as cliché as it sounded, his mother really did make the best cookies ever. “The first one wasn’t that hard, just really awkward. But the other one…”

The cookie he had just bit into abruptly turned to sawdust in his mouth, and he choked painfully, “…The other one was like… Was as bad as…”

Unable to finish the rest of his sentence, Merlin felt the dam of emotions he had built behind his eyes break, and hot, ugly tears were falling faster than he could rub them away. He cursed loudly, then quickly apologized, remembering his mother abhorred that kind of language.

But Hunith understood; she knew what he was referring to, even if he could never get the words out. Wordlessly, she pulled his head to her chest, like she had many times before, just like when he was a child who had seen horrible things he had no control over.

“Shh,” she murmured, moving away after a minute or so to wet a dishcloth to rub at Merlin’s face. “I told Gaius it wasn’t a good idea for you to work there. You have a good heart, Merlin, and I know you’re trying to help people, but I don’t want you to be unhappy. You know you always can come back here if you want.”

After the day he had, the offer was more than appealing, and it took all of Merlin’s willpower to turn it down. “…No, I’ll be okay, really,” he replied huskily, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. “I do like working there, and Gaius is teaching me so much.”

Frowning with motherly concern, Hunith sighed in resignation and gave his knee a squeeze before returning to her work. “You’re stubborn as ever, but I can see how much this means to you. Clean up after you’re done eating, and then maybe you can help me by preparing the salad?”

Dipping the rest of his cookies in the milk until they softened enough to crumble off, Merlin then gulped down the sickeningly sweet sludge. It looked disgusting and left an awful mess behind, but as far as he was concerned, it was the best way to achieve the right mixture of milk and cookie.

After washing his plate and glass in the sink, Merlin switched the hot water to cold before splashing his face. The cool liquid felt like a blessing against his flushed skin, and little by little he was actually starting to feel better.

“Make sure you rinse the tomatoes really well, I just picked them from the garden this morning,” Hunith instructed over the whirling of her mixer, a bit of flour on her nose. It always seemed like whenever she baked, she got a smudge of something on her--it was easy to see where Merlin’s own clumsiness came from--and it never failed to make Merlin smile. He often wondered if she did it on purpose for that very reason, but never bothered to ask.

The cherry tomatoes looked so fresh and mouth-watering that Merlin’s stomach growled crossly--he suddenly realized that with the exception of the cookies, he hadn’t eaten anything all day. Selecting the biggest tomato he could find, he gave it a quick rinse before popping it in his mouth, only for Hunith to playfully swat at him. “I’m sure you’re hungry, but you have to leave some for the salad!”

“But there’s so many here, we’ll have plenty between the three of us,” Merlin protested, hastily swallowing when Hunith shot him a reproving look for talking with his mouth full.

“It’s not just the three of us; I asked a few guests if they want to join us as well,” Hunith explained as she pulled out baking pans and greased them heavily before pouring batter and berries inside them. Stealing another tomato while his mother’s attention was diverted, Merlin finished washing the rest before moving on to the lettuce. “Mom, you own a bed and _breakfast_. I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to serve them dinner as well.”

“Oh, shush!” Hunith reprimanded with no real heat to her words as she turned off the buzzing timer above the stove. “Most of them are as young as you, and probably think fast-food constitutes an actual meal. It’s just one dinner, there’s no harm in that.”

Somehow Merlin had his doubts, aware his mother had been more charitable than necessary to her guests in the past. True, The Dragon’s Keep was more profitable than ever, thanks to Ealdor’s growing popularity, but while the bed and breakfast was in the black every month with a near constantly full capacity, Merlin didn’t think that meant Hunith should spend so much time, energy, or money on something that seemed frivolous.

An enticing aroma of garlic, spinach, mushrooms, and an assortment of cheeses suddenly wafted through the kitchen, and Merlin paused mid-toss of the salad to see his mother remove two large pans of bubbling lasagna from the oven. “Is that…?”

Smiling knowingly, Hunith nodded as she placed the pans on racks to cool, then reset the timer before putting the berry crumble in to bake. “I made sure to bake one without chicken, just for you.”

“…You are the best mother ever, you know that?” Merlin replied gleefully as inhaled in the scent of the pasta dish deeply, sorely tempted to serve himself now, uncaring if it meant he burnt the roof of his mouth in the process. Hunith seemed to sense his intent, and shooed him away. “I know, dear, and I also know that I can’t trust you in here now. If the salad’s finished, can you do me a favor and let the guests know dinner will be served shortly?”

Merlin stole another tomato--and ducked from his mother’s swatting--as he dashed into the hall before making his way up the main staircase, taking two of the creaky wooden steps at a time. His right hand gripped the worn banister with fondness, for he remembered how he and Will used to slide down it constantly, even after Hunith constantly berated them for it.

It was a minor miracle that the bed and breakfast actually thrived, especially since Merlin and Will had been little hellions when they were younger, running up and down the halls and generally terrorizing guests. Well, it had been mostly Will, though Merlin was always eager to follow his friend’s plans, even if he didn’t necessarily agree they were all good ones.

Like the time they had climbed out to the widow’s walk of the building to enjoy the view, only to find the door to get back inside had jammed, no matter how hard Will tugged or how much magic Merlin used. After hours had passed with no change, Hunith finally discovered what had happened and called the fire department. One busted door and several severe scoldings later, Merlin looked proud--as proud as a seven-year-old who was just bawling in his mother’s arms a few minutes earlier could be--as he announced that he had told Will the whole thing was a bad idea. Will had just shrugged in response, and asked if they could ride in the fire engine, whooping excitedly when the firefighters agreed.

Okay, maybe that last part hadn’t been so bad.

Chuckling to himself, Merlin was just about to knock at the door of the first room when he froze, his knuckles mere centimeters away from the painted wood.

There was no doubt in his mind why his magic was metaphorically scratching at the door, whining to be let in, but he still couldn’t believe the coincidence, or his horrible luck. Taking a deep and shaky breath, Merlin took a few steps backwards in a daze, hoping he could make his escape before it was too late and his presence was noticed.

Fate, it seemed, was in a rather cruel mood that day, for the door suddenly opened, and Arthur was standing there. Their gazes locked instantly, and after surprise and confusion swept through them, Arthur’s eyes narrowed as he snarled, “Just what the hell are you doing here?!”

At that moment, Merlin would give anything to be trapped on the widow walk once more.

***

Never in a million years did Arthur ever think he would be having a family dinner with people who could be considered rivals to his father’s company. Not only that, but he was seated next to the man that wanted him out of town and possible had the knowledge to blow his cover.

It was the most surreal and unnerving situation of Arthur’s life.

When Arthur had stormed out of the psychic shop earlier, Lance followed dutifully behind without a single word about their sudden departure, but not without the expression of a kicked puppy plastered on his face. Even Gwaine remained uncharacteristically tight-lipped on the subject, recognizing that it wouldn’t be prudent to push Arthur about it. That didn’t stop him from dramatically rolling his eyes every now and then, no doubt calling Arthur a variety of insulting names in his head.

It didn’t matter, because Arthur had been too busy stewing in his own bitter thoughts to notice or even care. How could he have been so blind, so _stupid_? The question repeated itself over and over, a constant droning that pounded between his ears and left him with a headache towards the end of the day.

As furious as he was at himself, however, it was nothing compared to the severity of what he felt about Merlin at the moment. Just thinking Merlin’s name was enough to get Arthur’s blood boiling, and waves of anger rolled off his body like the roaring tide.

So it was the understatement of the year to say that Merlin was the last person Arthur had wanted to see, let alone expected to find at the door of his room. There was a brief moment where Arthur nearly slammed the door right in Merlin’s face, but curiosity stayed his hand. Just how did he manage to find Arthur? Never mind; when he actually thought about it, he knew that with the limited lodging choices in Ealdor it wouldn’t be too hard to track a visitor down. But the next question was, why?

“Just what the hell are you doing here?!” he had snarled, and when Merlin didn’t answer right away (and instead pulled that “shocked” act that was growing old really fast), Arthur immediately assumed the worst. “What, first you threaten me, and now you’re actually _stalking_ me?!”

“No!” Merlin protested, looking just as surprised as Arthur, which didn‘t seem to make one iota of sense. “It’s not like that, I swear! Just my mom said she invited some of her guest to dinner, and…”

At first, the weight of the words didn’t fully register, and Arthur had started to ask what Merlin was babbling on about. Then suddenly, everything clicked into place, and a knot of anxiety and dread tightened in Arthur’s chest. “…Your mother owns the bed and breakfast?”

Any hope that he was simply misreading the situation died inside Arthur when Merlin nodded and then hastily explained, “I swear, this is just a coincidence--”

A coincidence. The most important business deal of Arthur’s young life--and quite possibly the best chance of showing his father he could handle this degree of responsibility--could slip out of his fingers because of a mere coincidence.

Because what would stop Merlin from telling his mother, telling others, telling the whole damn town about Arthur’s true reason for being in Ealdor? Nothing short of the apocalypse could stop Pendragon Suites from swooping down on a prime piece of real estate if the location was deemed viable by the company, but common knowledge of Arthur’s visit could make things a lot more difficult to settle a deal. After all, it was hard to cooperate with people who instantly mistrusted you simply because of who you were and what you stood for.

No, the irony of the idea was not lost on Arthur, considering it nearly paralleled his first meeting with Merlin. But Arthur thought his behavior then had been within good reason, especially when he realized Merlin was still rambling on. “--and I haven’t told her it was you that I saw, but I know she’ll understand if you have to check out early--”

The sneaky little _bastard_. Did Merlin really think he could manipulate Arthur into canceling this trip? As tempting as it was to jump at the opportunity to leave Ealdor, Pendragons were notorious for never giving up, and Arthur wasn’t about to break tradition. “I’m not leaving.”

That seemed to catch Merlin off-guard, and he stammered, “B-but… That’s why I gave you a refund, because--”

“I asked for a refund because I was completely dissatisfied with your service, and didn‘t appreciate being swindled out of my money for your own personal vendetta,” Arthur countered, watching with grim satisfaction as Merlin spluttered in disbelief, “And the fact is, _Mer_ lin, I’m not leaving until I finish the job I came here to do, whether you like it or not.”

Before he could fully enjoy the panicked look in Merlin’s eyes, Arthur did finally slam the door shut. Perhaps it wasn’t the most mature way to end an argument, but he felt a sense of superiority and closure nevertheless.

However, the feeling was quickly dampened when he turned around to face Gwaine glaring at him. “What?”

“…That‘s it, I’ve been keeping quiet all day about this, so don’t even try to weasel your way out of having this conversation now.” Gwaine paused, as though daring Arthur to object before continuing, “You have to tell me what has your panties all up in a bunch.”

“It’s _nothing_ , Gwaine," Arthur said roughly, his teeth grinding painfully together as he emphasized his words.

Gwaine snorted. “Bullshit! Now, I know you can be a pain in the ass, but most of the time you’re tolerable and even damn near fun to be around. But ever since we left that shop, you’ve been acting like you have the biggest stick in the world up your ass. I’m talking like, the size of one of those thousands-of-years-old redwoods.”

“He knows, okay?” Arthur snapped, his heavy pacing leaving a path in the already well-worn floor rug. “He knows my name, he knows I’m here on business for my father, and I don’t know what else! What if he tells other people, and they decide they don’t want a major hotel chain in their town threatening small businesses like his mother’s bed and breakfast?”

There was a moment of collective silence. Arthur exhaled softly to try and release some of the tension building up in his shoulders with little success. He knew he was being irrational in his concern, but the stress of his first hotel deal was causing him to be a bit paranoid.

In times of need, cooler heads prevail, and Lance was a textbook example. “…I don’t think he knows everything.”

If there was any chance of Arthur getting out of this mess, no matter how minimal or far-fetched, he was willing to hear it. “What do you mean? He knows enough to blow our cover.”

“Then why hasn’t he yet?” Lance argued gently, not needing to raise his voice in order to get his point across. “You would think he would do everything to keep his mother’s business from being jeopardized, but he didn’t tell her about you. He didn’t even try to use it to get you to leave. Doesn’t that seem strange, like something else is going on here?”

Arthur caught onto the meaning of Lance’s words and groaned. “You don’t still think he’s a psychic, do you?”

“Does it really matter what he is?” Gwaine interjected as he moved to open the door to the hall. “All that I care about right now is that there’s a free dinner waiting for us downstairs, and I’m fucking starving. I don’t know if you realize this, but we didn’t get breakfast or lunch because we were too busy making sure you didn’t bite some random stranger’s head off. So can we continue this conversation _after_ we’ve stuffed our faces?”

Arthur was reluctant to agree, in no mood to face Merlin again so soon. But he knew he would never hear the end of it if he didn’t go, so he sullenly made his way downstairs to the dining room, grateful to see it was relatively empty. So far, it seemed like none of the other guests were joining them, which suited him perfectly.

Of course, out of all the possible spots at the table, he would happen to be placed next to Merlin. Arthur almost requested to switch seats, but determined that would only draw unwanted attention to himself. So he plopped down into the chair without a word, noting how Merlin flinched in his own seat as he did so, but also remained silent. Fine, if they were going to pretend they didn't know each other, that worked out perfectly for Arthur.

It was weird how a simple meal time gathering could throw Arthur so far out of his element, though. As he helped himself to lasagna (the very definition of comfort food not found in the gourmet dishes prepared for him back home), he idly listened to the conversation that spun around the table. Even though he still looked slightly withdrawn from having Arthur by his side, Merlin had perked up considerably as his mother animatedly discussed her plans for her garden. It was such a banal topic, but there were smiles and laughs from everyone who participated.

Jealously burned away at his gut, and he stuck a fork in his food more violently than needed before shoving at a bite in his mouth. When he was growing up, dinner had hardly been an enjoyable affair; no one really spoke until his father prompted the topic, and even then it had been mostly stern lecturing on Uther's part rather than a two way conversation. That was if Uther was even there; most of the time he was so caught up in work he left his children to eat by themselves. So to see what a normal, well-adjusted family meal was like left Arthur with a hollow ache in his chest.

A kick under the table from Gwaine made Arthur snap out his internal pity party, and he glanced up to see everyone looking expectantly at him. "Sorry, what was that?"

Merlin's mother--who had introduced herself as Hunith when they first checked into their room--smiled softly in his direction, and Arthur wondered why he hadn't recognized the familial resemblance in Merlin before. "I asked how you were enjoying your trip so far. You're here for the whole week, right?"

While the others didn't notice, Arthur felt Merlin immediately stiffen in preparation for his answer. Well, if the truth had to come out sometime, it might as well be now. "That's right, though we might need to stay longer, if our room is still available."

"You stay as long as you need, it's still the beginning of the season so there are plenty of rooms. Take this time to be free without responsibilities, while you're still young." Hunith laughed, the twinkling sound nearly identical to the one Merlin let out earlier.

The job might be becoming too personal for his own good, because Arthur found himself starting to like Hunith. He always had a soft spot for maternal figures, formed from never knowing his own mother, and Hunith exuded a warmth and charisma he found himself being drawn into. "Actually, we're here on business for my father," he explained, watching Merlin out of the corner of his eye. "We're writing a travel guide about the town and its attractions."

Technically, that wasn't a lie, but Arthur still waited anxiously for Merlin to refute him, to expose his true intentions. When seconds passed and Merlin did nothing but push food around on his plate under the pretense of eating, Arthur's heart surged with fresh hope that Lance had been correct in his assumptions: it seemed Merlin really didn't know everything.

"How wonderful!" Hunith beamed, making Arthur feel just the slightest bit of guilt for his deception. "I'm sure you boys already planned on mentioning the beach and the boardwalk, but there's also a outdoor stage that has live performances on Saturday nights. Sometimes they have ghost tours around town, especially in the older buildings. And of course, there's the dragon himself."

Lance choked on his drink in surprise. "There's actually a dragon?"

In true motherly fashion, Hunith automatically patted him on the back and handed over a napkin before answering. "Why do you think the town is covered with them? Back when Ealdor was founded, some unknown sculptor climbed up to the cliffs and decided to carve a dragon into the rock facing overlooking the water. In fact, if you follow the road on the east of town, you can hike right up the marked path and see it for yourself."

"There's even a legend that if you jump from the cliff and ‘fly’ with the dragon, your heart's desire will come true. _If_ you survive the fall.“ The elderly man who was sitting by Hunith offered, and Arthur was inwardly curious if he was another family member or a guest. Whoever he was, apparently he never got the memo that the 60s were over and no respectable person would be caught dead wearing tie-dye.

There was a loud whistle from a clearly impressed Gwaine. "It sounds like you'd have to have balls of steel to even try it. Does it work?"

Hunith clicked her tongue in reproach. "Look at you've done now, Gaius, you’ve put the wrong idea in their heads."

"It's just a story," Gaius said, holding up his hands in an attempt to placate Hunith. "Even if it was true, you would have to jump right when the tide was at its highest and not smash into the rocks below. A very difficult feat, I can assure you."

“And one I’m sure none of you boys will even think about trying, _right_?” Hunith asked, studying them all closely before cheerfully changing the subject. “You did pick a perfect time to visit though; there’s a week-long dragon themed festival starting tomorrow that the whole town is participating--Oh, and maybe Merlin can give you a tour!"

Silverware clattered sharply against the porcelain plates, and all eyes were on Merlin as he abruptly rose from his seat, his chair scraping painfully against the wooden floor. "S-Sorry, I have to..."

Not bothering to finish his sentence, he walked swiftly from the room, leaving a fretful Hunith in his wake. “I don’t understand, he seemed to be feeling better earlier...” She sighed before forcing a weak smile on her face. “Please excuse him, he’s had a trying day.”

“I know the feeling,” Arthur mumbled under his breath, stabbing his food with renewed gusto. He really didn’t appreciate it when Gwaine snorted at him, quite aware the mental name-calling had returned.

Luckily, Hunith didn’t seem to notice, too busy admonishing Gaius. “I still say you've been working him too hard at the shop. It seems like I hardly see him any more."

Gaius raised an eyebrow at the accusation and huffed loudly. "You see him at least every Sunday, and you two talk on the phone every day. While he might not act like at it times, he's old enough now to handle his own problems." His features softened when he noticed the distress in Hunith's face, and Gaius patted her hand reassuringly. "I'm sure he just need a good night's rest. He usually loves to help people and has no problems with the other readings, but you know how it is with the crystal.”

"What's with the crystal thing anyways?" Gwaine asked as he shoveled his third helping of lasagna in his mouth. "It seemed to really freak him out when he gave me a reading with it earlier."

Arthur immediately suspected his worst fears had come true when Gaius and Hunith immediately blanched, their eyes awash with understanding. Damn it, instead of worrying that Merlin was going to blow their operation’s cover, Arthur should have poured more focus in making sure Gwaine kept his big mouth _shut_.

The first to speak again was Gaius, his tone laced with somber apprehension. “When he performed the crystal reading for you, did he foretell...an unfavorable outcome?”

“You can say that,” Gwaine chuckled wryly. “My dream of being single forever is apparently doomed."

"...I didn't do one with the crystal, even though I wanted to," Lance admitted quietly with a sheepish smile. "What would have happened if I asked?”

“As hard as it may be to believe, I have yet to hear one of Merlin’s predictions that didn’t come to fruition in some way.” For a moment, Gaius looked like he was about to say something else, but instead shook his head with a heavy grimace. 

The idea that he was perhaps the only rational and sane person sitting at the table briefly flitted across Arthur’s mind. He wanted to tell them exactly what he thought of Merlin’s abilities and their willingness to have so much faith in them, and afterwards, where they could shove them both. He caught himself just in time; not only would it be incredibly rude, but he had calmed down enough to recognize he would be just taking out his frustrations on those who didn’t deserve it.

Did that mean Merlin deserved it, though? He had been so sure earlier that the answer was a resounding “Yes!”, but doubts were starting to creep in the shadows of his mind. There were a lot of things he still didn’t understand, and now he was wondering if he passed his judgment too quickly without knowing all the facts.

It was then that he realized the others were waiting for him to say something, and while he didn’t want to lie any more than he had already, Arthur panicked. “...I didn’t have a crystal reading either," he muttered, keeping his eyes downcast. "Merlin didn't tell me a thing."

***

Every year, there seemed to be fewer and fewer stars twinkling in the night sky. Whether it was because Ealdor's growing light pollution blocked them out, or the stars themselves had faded away, Merlin wasn't sure. But he mourned the loss all the same.

As painful as the thought was, he clung to it desperately, searching for an assortment of things to focus on instead of the problem plaguing him. He was hyper-aware of how the coarse, natural fibers of the hammock he was curled up in dug into his bare skin. And how, when he closed his stinging eyes, the cool tendrils of the evening breeze snaked through the stifling heat to curl around him. He could even hear the nearby ocean as it crashed against the shore, the roar of the foamy waves Mother Nature's own version of a lullaby.

He took these seemingly small and inconsequential things and magnified them in his head, forming a makeshift barrier against the thoughts he wanted out and gone. But every time he tried to hold it up, it would inexplicably topple over, and his anxieties would surge anew.

If Arthur refused to listen to him and decided to stay in Ealdor, it really wouldn't be Merlin's fault. Although he told himself this over and over, he was having a hard time actually believing it, especially considering the circumstances.

But while he had come to the conclusion that he had explain the situation fully, had to make Arthur see sense, Merlin had struggled (and failed) in his attempts to conjure up the right words. Instead, he remained relatively quiet, forcing a faint smile or chuckle when needed, trying not be overwhelmed by Arthur's presence in the seat beside him at dinner.

It was a simple comment on his mother's part--and he made a mental note to apologize later for worrying her--that broke through the last of Merlin's defenses. The mention of the dragon and the festival reminded him of the images he saw in the crystal, and suddenly he felt like he was suffocating, the walls of the room closing in tight around him. Before he could give it a second thought, he had rushed from the dining room to the sanctity of fresh air, retching the meager contents of his stomach onto the ground as soon as he was outside.

No doubt Arthur had a laugh at his expense after he had left, or at least thought he was even more of a freak, which did not help Merlin's credulity in the slightest. How on earth was he going to convince someone their life was in danger when they thought he was an overly emotional fraud?

"Look, I thought I told you I didn't want your kind around here any more."

Merlin instantly froze, thinking Arthur had somehow found him and was going to heckle him some more. But as he recognized the approaching figure in the dusk, the tension slowly released itself from his body. "...Good to see you too, Will."

The hammock dipped dramatically as Will unceremoniously plopped down next to Merlin before handing over a small serving of berry crumble. "Here. Sorry I missed dinner, but from what your mom told me, sounds like you did too."

While his stomach was still twisted in knots, Merlin took the plate. "I wasn't hungry," he mumbled as he forced himself to take a bite of the dessert.

"See? That right there tells me something." Will jabbed at the air with the fork from his own serving to emphasize his point. "You always seem to be eating, even though you stay skinny as hell while the rest of us gain ten pounds just from watching you."

It was an off-hand joke, but Merlin could hear the underlying bitterness in his friend's voice. At school, while he had been picked on for being scrawny and continuously clumsy, Will was teased for being somewhat on the chunky side and baby-faced. He eventually slimmed down once he entered his teens and became more active, but it was still a sore subject to that day.

"Besides," Will then added, "She told me about the readings too. She's worried about you Em, and I don't blame her."

The usage of his childhood nickname normally made Merlin smile, but now it just grated against his already frayed nerves. "...Am I really that bad off that my mom has to send others to look out for me?" he groaned, throwing his arm over his face as he lay back in the hammock.

"You know how your mom is; just be glad she‘s not out here herself, dragging you back inside and forcing you to stay." Will shrugged, placing his empty plate on the ground before leaning back as well. "But even if she didn't ask me to check up on you, I still would've, because I see now what she’s talking about. No offense, but you look like shit."

"...Thanks Will," Merlin replied, rolling his eyes sarcastically. “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”

Will responded by jabbing Merlin in his ribs with an elbow. "I mean it, I've never seen you this bad in a long time... Want to talk about it?"

When Gaius asked a similar question earlier, Merlin had clammed up, the experience too fresh and raw at the time. But over the span of the day, the urge to tell someone welled up inside of him, and besides his relatives, he could think of no other person to talk to about it but Will. He hesitated nevertheless, not knowing the best way to start the conversation. “When you went down for dinner, was there anyone besides my mom and uncle there?”

“By the time I finished telling the couple in Room Six that if they stopped stuffing so much shit down their toilet, I wouldn’t have to come by and fix it that often, it was already past eight. Your mom was the only one left in the dining room when I got down there, and she was just cleaning up.” Will paused, then snapped his fingers. “No, wait, there was also that group of guys from Room One, yeah? I ran into them in the hallway; they were laughing and joking with each other, but as soon as they saw me, they all got quiet. And that fucking blond douche just glared at me, like ‘how dare you share the same air space as me when you’re just a lowly maintenance man.’”

If the situation wasn’t so severe, Merlin would have laughed at Will’s description of what was undoubtedly Arthur. “He and his friends were in the shop today, and when I brought out the crystal for him…” He swallowed deeply to fight the bile that threatened to rise up his throat. “It’s bad, Will. Really bad.”

“No shit?” When Merlin nodded weakly, Will shrugged. “Maybe he’s just getting what’s coming to him then.”

“Will!” Merlin shouted, absolutely horrified. “Do you not get it? If he stays in Ealdor for much longer, I think he’s going to die!”

Will’s eyes widened dramatically at Merlin’s outburst. “Fuck Em, when you said bad, I didn’t think you meant _that_ bad. What did he say when you told him?”

“…I didn‘t really get a chance, since he didn‘t believe me,” Merlin muttered, his shoulders slumping in dejection. “He thought I was a fake, and made me refund the money for all the readings I did.”

The hammock wildly bounced up and down, and Merlin sat up in alarm to figure out the source of the disturbance. “If anything is going to kill him,” Will growled as he quickly moved to get up, “it’s going to be me.”

“But--”

“Don’t even start, Em! We both know you’re complete shit when it comes to standing up for yourself, which is why you have me around.” Will ran a hand through his dark brown hair, almost as if he was a bit embarrassed to be admitting such a thing so freely. “Look, I don’t really get the stuff you do, even though you’ve tried to explain it to me a couple times, but I still believe you. So it pisses me off that you tried to help that asshole, and he just blew you off. _And_ made you give back the money just because he doesn’t like his fucked up fortune!”

Merlin gave Will a faint grin. “Thanks, but you don’t have to do that. In case you couldn’t tell, I kind of _don’t_ want him to die.”

For a second, Will looked like he was going to protest some more, but eventually sighed as he sank back down next to Merlin. “Yeah, well, that’s because you’re a giant bleeding heart with ears.” He pushed at the ground with his toes, lazily swinging them back and forth before he asked, “You sure about this? Not saying you’re wrong, just… What did you see anyways?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure.” Merlin shuddered, the images projecting into his mind once more without needing any real effort on his part. “You know how it’s all jumbled together, like when you’re fast forwarding through a movie and only catch bits and pieces. But they all involve him getting really hurt. …Or worse.”

“…Remind me to never tease you about not wanting to watch horror movies again,” Will joked in a weak attempt to lighten the mood, his normal ruddy complexion paled. “Is there any way you can find out when it’ll happen?”

“The festival,” Merlin whispered, repeating himself when he realized Will didn’t hear him. “One of the first things I definitely saw was people celebrating the festival that starts tomorrow. You know how they’re doing kites over the water this year?”

“Yeah?” Will raised his eyebrows and snorted. “Don’t tell me one of those things will dive-bomb him or something?”

It was hard to stay focused on the issue at hand when Will kept interjecting his quirky brand of humor, but Merlin found himself appreciative of the gesture. "No, but you know those bicycle carts they use for giving people tours on the boardwalk? I think someone will try and run him off the pier with one once the kites are flying."

"Damn, just how many people in this town has Blondie pissed off already?"

"Will, this is serious!"

"Yeah, yeah." Will waved his hand nonchalantly. "I know you want to help him and all, but what are you going to do if he refuses to listen to you?"

Sounds of crickets performing their nightly mating rituals filled the silence that followed while Merlin struggled to come up with an answer.

"...I'll try to talk to him one more time, and if he still doesn't believe me, then..." Merlin chewed on his bottom lip before continuing, "Then I guess I'll just have to protect him from everything I saw in the crystal."

"In other words, you're going to stalk him."

"I am not _stalking_ him."

"Sure sounds like it to me." Will chuckled. "You sure you just don't have a crush on the guy or something?"

Even in the dark, the blush that spread across Merlin's features was visible, and he spluttered indignantly, "What are you talking about? Arthur probably _hates_ me right now, and I'm starting to feel the same way about him."

"Yet you're worrying an awful lot about someone you don't even know." Will shoved him playfully. "Why would you do that if you don't care about the guy?"

Merlin turned on his side, facing away from Will and closing his eyes. "...You know why."

There was a loud exhale of breath, and when Will spoke again, all humor was gone from his voice. "Shit, Merlin, you were just a kid. You know it wasn't your fault."

Even after all the years that had passed, the reason behind Merlin's hatred of the crystal still festered deep inside him. He wiped the few tears that escaped before they could roll any farther down his cheeks as he answered, "I know, but what's my excuse this time, now that I'm old enough to know better? I can't let someone die just because I don't like the guy."

Will hummed noncommittally as he began to swing the hammock again at an obvious loss of what to say. Merlin blearily opened his eyes, pushing back painful memories to proper recesses of his mind. "Hey Will?"

The swinging stopped. "Yeah?"

Using only his chin, Merlin gestured to the sea cliffs, which were barely viewable in the horizon. Even if he squinted, he wouldn't be able to make out the dragon, but he knew it was there. "Have you ever thought about... You know... Trying it for yourself?"

"Once or twice," Will replied, knowing exactly what Merlin was referring to. He settled back against the hammock, sticking his hands under his head. "Like when my mom left, or my dad lost his job and started to drink all the time."

The way Will calmly spoke about his family life, one would assume he wasn't bothered by the hardships he'd experienced, but Merlin knew better. The truth was, Will was more like a brother than a friend to Merlin, especially since he had been unofficially adopted by Hunith when he was sixteen. She took him in her house, fed and clothed him like he was her own, and he insisted on paying her back by doing odd chores around the house. After high school--which he swore he only passed thanks to what he affectionately called Hunith's "nagging"--he got certified in different fields of maintenance work just so he could be more of assistance to the bed and breakfast. Merlin sometimes even felt guilty about it, like Will was the more diligent son of the two men.

"I didn't go through with it though, obviously," Will awkwardly explained after the momentarily lapse in conversation. "Because knowing my luck, I'd probably cock it up somehow and end up splattering myself on the rocks all for some stupid urban legend. Besides, my life turned out pretty alright without it."

A pause, and then the question Merlin knew had been coming up next: "What about you?"

It was surprising that Will didn't know already, considering the two hardly kept anything from each other, but Merlin never willingly brought up that period of his life to anyone before. "...Remember that time I was really sick and couldn't leave my house for a whole month?"

"Of course I do. Your poor mom was freaking out, because it happened right after--"

Even though he couldn't bear to look at his friend at the moment, Merlin could tell the connection had been made when he felt Will go completely rigid besides him.

"...You didn't, you fucking didn't." Will's tone was akin to thunder crashing in a storm, which was oddly appropriate given the topic. " _Tell me_ you didn't."

"I didn't," Merlin reassured him quietly, finally forcing himself to turn back towards Will. "I tried to, though. That same night, but I ended up getting caught in the rain. They found me halfway up to the cliffs, shivering from hypothermia under a tree somewhere."

"What the _fuck_ , Em? You were like, what, five at the time?" Will stared at him in disbelief before shaking his head. "Fuck."

Merlin knew how bad it sounded, and he would always regret putting his family through hell for an unfounded idea. But then, a voice in the back of his head always countered, _What if it worked?_

"Probably goes without saying, but I'm glad you didn't get to go through with it. I mean, if anyone could do it, you could, thanks to your--" Will twiddled his fingers, a gesture that was supposed to represent Merlin's magic. "--and all, but still. Wouldn't want to take a chance."

"Yeah," Merlin said dully, not really sure how else to respond to that.

Sighing loudly, Will rose to his feet again, stretching out before gathering the empty dishes that lay in the grass. "I should get some sleep; no doubt Room Six is going to call me for another clog in the morning. And look, I know your mother probably already offered, but don't be afraid to come back here if you need to. This place has been boring as hell without you."

Merlin stood up as well, knowing that if he didn't move soon, he would be liable to fall asleep right there in the hammock. "I know... Thanks Will."

"I mean it, I'll even let you share my bed, as long as you keep your hands to yourself. Of course, that won't be a problem now that it sounds like you have a thing for Blondie."

"Ugh." Merlin wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Remind me why we're friends again?"

Will threw an arm over Merlin's shoulder, pulling him in for a sideways hug. "Who else is going to take care of you besides your family?"

***

Arthur had always been something of an early riser, prepared to greet the new day as quickly as possible. It just made sense to him; after all, the sooner he completed his monstrous list of daily tasks, the sooner they would get done.

But the truth of the matter was that Arthur’s schedule just seemed to grow longer as his nights grew shorter. Gwaine often joked that Arthur would sleep when he was dead, and recently Arthur was starting to believe it.

Even when he was on vacation (or at least under the pretense of one), his tendency to wake five minutes before his alarm went off remained the same. So while the rest of the world around him still curled up in a blanket of sluggish darkness, Arthur hurried to dress in a white t-shirt and shorts the shade of the trademark Pendragon red. After he fastened the laces of his tennis shoes, he quietly made his way outside.

Another reason Arthur loved mornings so much was because it was the only time of the day he could fully devote to himself without feeling like he was shirking his other duties. Even Uther Pendragon himself didn’t conduct business this early, though it wasn't for a constant lack of trying. As traitorous to his father and the company as it made him feel, Arthur was at least glad to be granted this one simple pleasure.

He popped in the earbuds of his mp3 player, and the classic sounds of Chopin washed over him as he stretched the kinks out of his legs. The beachside wasn’t quite a literal hop, skip, and a jump away from the bed and breakfast, but it was close enough that he soon found his feet pounding against wet sand. With every step, the leftover water from last night’s high tide would spray up, hitting the backs of his calves as he ran. The sensation--along with the sea breeze ruffling his golden hair--left him feeling absolutely invigorated.

This was what he could finally find appealing about Ealdor. Not the town’s bustling boardwalk or even the dragon on the cliffs, but just the act of enjoying the calming atmosphere around oneself. It almost made him wish he really was there just for vacation, and he realized he couldn't remember the last time he had been on one. The problem was, being in the hotel business meant all the usual holiday spots would only serve to remind him of work. But while he was still young and healthy, he could feel the stress he was under grinding him down relentlessly; it would never let up until he was little more than dust blowing in the wind.

That settled it; once he finished in Ealdor, he was putting in for some actual time off. Whether he went far away where they didn't have concerns about profit margins or development setbacks, or just stayed in his dark and empty apartment and finally weeded through the shows he always recorded but never had the chance to watch--it didn't really matter.

Arthur snorted at thought; who was he trying to kid? Even in the unlikely chance he was granted leave, he'd probably go stir-crazy from sheer boredom the very first day. It was in his nature to always be productive in some way, or else he grew antsy and started to pace like a wild animal in a cage.

He was even using his morning run to brainstorm different ways of showcasing Ealdor's marketability. With a fresh and clear head on his shoulders, he could now easily formulate how to push the relaxing properties of the town into the focus of his report. It could be the perfect place to unwind and get away from the bustle of everyday life, and he made a mental note about the possible services a Pendragon Suites could provide that would play into that theme. Perhaps a sauna or even a day-spa.

As for the other aspects of Ealdor, Arthur realized he should have just left those to his friends in the first place. Always a self-proclaimed people person and lover of food, Gwaine could handle a review of the shops and restaurants, no doubt trying out everything at Arthur's own expense. And the whole dragon business seemed right up Lance's alley, for he had always been interested in the study of local history and folktales.

Satisfied he now had a viable plan to tackle the project, Arthur felt like he had shifted the weight of the world from his shoulders. The relief might have been short-lived, but he basked in it all the same, a wide smile spreading across his features.

The first tendrils of dawn were just starting to streak across the sky when he returned to the bed and breakfast, and he had suspected he would be alone in watching the sun lazily make its ascent in the horizon. So he was surprised to see Hunith sitting out on the front porch, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders to ward off any chill lingering behind. "Good morning Mr. Debois," she called softly. "Did you sleep well?"

The usage of his mother's maiden name threw Arthur off for a second, but then he remembered it was part of the alias he used when he signed for the room. "...Yes, very well, thank you."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it." She beamed at him, the expression so genuine Arthur felt himself returning it. "There's coffee and breakfast in the dining room, feel free to help yourself."

Nodding in gratitude, Arthur went inside, heading to his room first in desperate need of a shower. The door clicked behind him softly as he entered the suite, and he shook his head fondly when he saw his two friends still snoozing. Or at least in Gwaine's case, loudly _snoring_.

After he showered and dressed for the day, he returned downstairs, expecting to find the traditional continental breakfast waiting for him: stale danishes, cold cereal, fruit that made the wax ones look appetizing, the common hotel staples.

The enticing aroma that hit his nose even before he got to the dining room was the first clue on how wrong he was. When he entered, he could only gawk at the number of food choices that had been spread out on the table. To make all this would be a sizable workload for a kitchen crew, let alone one person, and the cost of it all must have been exorbitant. Once again he wondered just how The Dragon's Keep made any profit, and was tempted to say something about it, to offer his business expertise in the matter--

Except according to the business principles his father had constantly drilled into his head, this was practically his competition he was thinking about offering advice to, and he had to stop forgetting that. Had to stop thinking of Hunith's face, heartbroken and crushed once she found out the truth, for Pendragon Suites had a reputation of running smaller hotels out of town. Funny how Arthur never felt a twinge of guilt about those previous cases.

He crunched down on a piece of bacon, chewing it violently as he tried to banish the thought from his mind. Thankfully, the sounds of others entering the room provided a distraction, and he turned to see Gwaine and Lance lumbering in. "Good to see you two finally are awake."

While Lance mumbled a sheepish apology as he shuffled towards the coffee, Gwaine casually flipped Arthur the finger. "Just because we don't want to get up at the asscrack of dawn doesn't mean--wait, are you eating bacon?"

It wasn't until Gwaine pointed it out that Arthur realized this was the first "normal" breakfast he had in a while. It might have not been the healthiest choice, but he had to admit, it did taste a hell of a lot better than his nutritional shakes. "...Yeah?" he replied, swallowing the bite he had in his mouth. "Your point?"

Gwaine clapped a hand on Arthur's back, grinning cheekily. "I knew I could eventually make you see the light."

“Just don’t let it go to your head, alright? It’s big enough as it is,” Arthur snorted, hiding a smile behind his coffee mug as he took a sip. “Hurry up and eat, I want to talk to you about what we’re doing today before the other guests come in.”

At first there was grumbling on Gwaine's end at just the mention of discussing business so early and before he had proper food in his stomach. But once he learned he was to scope out all the shopping and entertainment Ealdor had to offer, his mood quickly improved. "Finally putting one of my many talents to good use, eh?" he drawled, winking in a way Arthur promptly ignored.

Though he didn't wear his excitement on his sleeve like Gwaine did, Lance seemed pleased with his role as well, his eyes shining brightly as he nodded to Arthur's instructions. The festival was the perfect time to gather information about the town's background and stories, and it was obvious that Lance was just as interested for himself as well as for his report.

Later, when the group left the inn in separate directions, Arthur's spirit was in high hopes that everything would fall into place. Despite the rough start, it seemed the reconnaissance mission was finally going his way.

Of course, it wasn’t too long before everything went downhill again.

It was a few minutes after noon when he reached the pier, allowing himself a small break before he would head back to the room to type up his portion of the report. He had been happy to find that there was nothing even close to a spa in Ealdor, meaning if one was offered by the Pendragon Suites location there, it would no doubt be in high demand. He added that to the growing file of notes that he kept on his phone, mindlessly pushing through the crowd of people who were out to celebrate the dragon festival.

A flash of color caught his attention out of the corner of his eye, and he glanced up to see assorted kites of different shapes and sizes soaring through the air. Even he was left speechless by the spectacle, and he just hoped Lance would know to write specifically about events like this, perhaps even take pictures as visual references. He even snapped a few using the camera on his own phone, just in case.

To his right, a pair that looked like father and son were making last minute adjustments on an obviously homemade kite. The young boy prattled on happily while the man looked down with an open, easy smile. When their kite joined the others already in the sky, they let out a combined shout of jubilation, the man wrapping his arms around his son to give a supportive squeeze.

Arthur huffed, sticking his earbuds in to block out any further noise. He didn't want to be reminded that his relationship with his father lacked the warmth he had seen in other families. He told himself that it was pointless to still be wishing for anything else than what he had.

After all, it wasn't like Uther was considered a horrible parent by any means. He was just...distant. And strict. He loved his children in his own particular way: not through overzealous displays of affection, but a constant push for them to excel in everything they did. The only problem was, Arthur often wondered if his father expected too much, accepting nothing less than perfection.

Sometimes he wasn't sure if his life was the way he wanted it, or the way Uther dictated it to be.

With a shake of his head, Arthur banished such thoughts from his mind, growing angry for allowing himself to get so melancholy. No matter what, he loved his father and would be forever grateful to him.

Besides, would his life be really that more enriched if Uther had taken time out of his overloaded schedule to spend more time with his son? Would Arthur have played a better game at all his high school soccer matches if he glanced up to see his father cheering wildly, instead of just another empty seat in the bleachers? Would his heart have healed faster the first time a girl broke it if he received sympathy and understanding instead of a stern lecture on how he didn't have time to mope around like a lovesick fool?

Did it matter that he didn't even know how to fly a kite himself because he didn't have anyone to teach him?

Arthur gritted his teeth as he turned the volume on his mp3 player completely up, drowning out any possible answer his mind could provide. He really didn't have time for this; he had a report to finish and--

The pier vibrating heavily underneath his feet stole the remainder of his focus, and his gaze darted upwards to see a bicycle-drawn carriage speedily heading in his direction with no sign of stopping. Not even having the chance to shout out in alarm, he jumped out of the way as the bicyclist smashed into the spot where he had been just a mere second before. The worn wood splintered under the magnitude of force, causing the railing he was leaning against to suddenly break away. Before Arthur could fully comprehend was happening, he was falling backwards, desperately grasping for something to latch onto other than thin air.

The last thing he remembered before hitting the water below was the feeling of lean but strong arms encircling around him protectively with a golden flash of light.

***

If Hunith ever learned about the type of crude language currently circulating through her son's head at the moment, she would probably wash his mouth out with soap on sheer principle alone.

Not that she had ever done such a thing before (never really needing anything besides a soft reprimand), but even Merlin was surprised by the degree of words he kept muttering under his breath. He wasn't sure whether to blame the severity of the situation, or just the fact that he spent time around Will recently. Perhaps it was even a combination of the two.

When he returned back to his room above the shop late Sunday night, Merlin had promptly passed out on top of his bedsheets, not able to stay awake long enough to bother changing from his clothes or even take off his shoes. While he knew he needed the rest, he didn't expect to be so exhausted that he would sleep right through his first alarm as well as his second.

Gaius banging on his door and yelling at him to get up already was what finally jolted Merlin to a groggy state of consciousness. Smacking his lips together in an attempt rid of the feeling his mouth was stuffed with cotton, he blearily blinked at the clock next to the bed. And blinked again when he noticed the time, letting out the curse that would be the first of many of the day.

Somehow he managed not to stumble down the stairs in his haste to leave, and he was reaching for the front door when Gaius stopped him: "And just where do you think you're going?"

"...Um." Merlin shrugged sheepishly. "Out?"

"Out," Gaius repeated, raising an eyebrow at Merlin's disheveled appearance. "Ah, I see. Tell me, in your plan to go out while still wearing the clothes you had on yesterday, did you forget you were scheduled the work shift this morning?"

Technically, it was kind of late to point that out, considering the morning was almost over anyway, but Merlin knew better than to bring that up in his argument. "I'm really sorry, but there's something I have to do. Besides, you know business is slower on weekdays, and everyone will probably be at the festival. So please, can I go?"

Maybe it was because of what happened yesterday that Gaius eventually relented. "Go on then," he sighed, shooing Merlin off, "I'll just have some chores for you to do when you get back."

After shouting his thanks, Merlin rushed outside but halted in his tracks when he reached a startling revelation: he had no idea where to even begin his search for Arthur. Sure, he figured out from the vision that the kites from the festival would play a key role, but the pier would be crowded with hundreds of people. How would he be able to find Arthur in time, if it wasn't too late already?

Magic prickled underneath his skin, and the voice that spoke within him before hummed in response to his question: _Breathe. Think. You will find him._

 _Right, it's finally happened then_ , Merlin thought to himself, _I've officially lost my mind if I think my_ magic _has started talking to me_.

Still, there didn't seem to be any harm in following the whispered instructions, so he exhaled slowly and closed his eyes, conjuring a clear image of Arthur on the back of his eyelids.

There was a sharp pull at the center of his chest, and his eyes flew back open in surprise. At first he thought he would have found someone physically tugging at him, but gasped when he saw a trail of golden, sparkling light form a pathway in front of him.

"...Great, apparently I have some sort of mystical GPS," he said aloud, thankful that no one was around to hear him. "That's...good to know, I guess."

Even with his magic leading him (which definitely would take some getting used to), there was still the matter of Merlin reaching Arthur before anything happened. Cursing his lack of a car, he ran the entire way there, completely out of breath by the time he arrived at the pier.

"Arthur!" he called out, hopping and down over the crowd to get a better view; his magic was still trying to guide him, but it kept getting trampled underneath the feet of people who were oblivious to it. After apologizing to the third person he accidentally bumped, he finally spotted a familiar head of blond hair and called out again. "Arthur!"

Whether Arthur heard him or not, Merlin wasn't sure. All that mattered was the next thing he knew, the exact same bicycle cart from his vision was on a collision course straight for Arthur.

"Arthur!" Merlin cried out fruitlessly one last time as he shoved his way through the throng, unwilling to come all this way just to watch the scene from the reading unfold right in front of him.

Sheer panic filled Merlin’s chest as he watched Arthur fall off the edge of the broken pier, and with an unexpected burst of adrenaline (as well a chorus of “shit shit _shit_ " mumbled under his breath), Merlin dove after Arthur without a second thought.

Even though he had memorized a few spells, most of Merlin's magic was based on pure instinct alone. It was like an unconscious part of him tapped into some unknown power welled deep inside him, bringing it to the surface. The only problem was that he had yet to learn how to fully control his gifts and bend them perfectly to his will. Which meant he could wrap himself around Arthur, encasing the two of them in magical barrier that would absorb some of the impact from the fall, but he couldn't prevent them from hitting the water altogether.

(Then again, that was probably a good thing, considering he wouldn't be reasonably able to explain any obvious use of magic with spectators around.)

The frigid temperature of the water was what shocked him the most. They were only submerged for only a few seconds, yet he could already feel the cold creep into his bones as he desperately pulled them both to the surface.

Arthur hung like an unresponsive rag doll in his arms, and Merlin wasn't even able to tell if he was dead or merely unconscious while struggling to keep them both afloat. With a strained grunt, he awkwardly tugged the limp, bulky body back to the shore, never being so grateful in his entire life when his feet touched solid ground again.

His lungs felt like they were on fire and his muscles were screaming in agony, but he still managed to drag Arthur onto the beach. Merlin checked for a pulse as soon as he could, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt a heartbeat under cool, clammy skin. "C'mon," he muttered as he slapped Arthur's cheek gently, wondering if he had to perform CPR without really knowing how. "C'mon, you can't die on me after I went through all the trouble of saving your life."

Arthur abruptly jerked his body upwards before he groggily rolled onto his side, violently coughing up seawater. Not sure what else to do, Merlin calmly rubbed his back and asked tentatively, "Are you okay?"

"...Yeah," Arthur croaked, spitting in disgust one more time. "I think I'm--"

Merlin was roughly shoved backwards, landing in the sand with a yelp as Arthur whirled around to face him. "You!" Arthur shouted, his voice hoarse and scratchy as he pointed lividly in Merlin's direction. "What did you do?"

"Me?" Merlin squawked in indignation, scrambling to his feet and trying to brush the grit from his body with no success. “I’m pretty sure I just _saved_ you, Arthur!”

“Saved me?” Arthur spluttered as he stumbled to stand as well, wiping the stinging saltwater out of his eyes and off his face. Merlin grimaced in sympathetic understanding; his own outfit was soaked and starting to chafe, and he probably had sand in places he didn’t even want to think about.

Then Arthur peeled off his dripping t-shirt off his chest in an attempt to wring it out, and Merlin’s breath hitched in his throat. Once again he was forced to acknowledge how good-looking and fit Arthur really was. He couldn’t help but gawk as rivulets of water coursed down from Arthur’s broad shoulders, weaving and whirling around firm and well-defined muscles before nestling in the smattering of dark blonde hair that disappeared into the waistband of Arthur’s jeans. The sun hit his glistening, tan skin at all the right angles, and Merlin felt a rush of blood heat his cheeks.

Damn it, Merlin thought. Maybe Will was right; maybe he was just a little bit attracted to Arthur. And wouldn’t that be just fucking _fantastic_?

If Arthur read anything in his bemused expression, he didn’t mention it. “ _You_ , saved _me_ ,” he repeated, staring at Merlin like he had sprouted a second head. As if the concept of being saved by him was the hardest thing in the world to believe.

(Okay, maybe it was, given the current circumstances, but _still_...)

“Yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking,” Merlin quipped dryly, only to bite his tongue in afterthought. Judging by the way Arthur bristled in response, that had definitely been the wrong thing to say, and he hastily tried to change the subject. "Hey, should you be moving around so much? Maybe we should wait for help to arrive, to make sure you're okay."

"I'm _fine_ ," Arthur growled, and yeah, while it did look like he had recovered relatively quickly, Merlin wasn't fully convinced. "Arthur, you were unconscious for a little while there. You need medical attention."

" _Merlin_." Arthur's tone was as bitter and biting as the seawater itself. "You will tell no one about this."

"But..." Merlin started to argue as he glanced towards the pier, confused on how Arthur could expect the whole thing quiet when there had to be other witnesses. He wondered if anyone in the crowd he saw gathering had the sense to call the paramedics and had checked to see if the bicyclist was hurt. Surely it all had been a simple accident...right?

A hand suddenly shot out to yank Merlin by the collar, and soon his face was inches away from Arthur's own. " _No one_ , and I mean it," Arthur hissed, his breathing hot and heavy against Merlin's chilled skin. "Keep this a secret, and I just might not press charges for reckless endangerment. Do I make myself absolutely clear?"

Merlin staggered back, reeling like the weight of Arthur's words had physically struck him. He wasn't naive enough to think they would be on the friendliest of terms now, but he really didn't expect to be threatened. "'Reckless endangerment'...Arthur, do you think I _meant_ for this to happen?"

"I'm not an idiot, Merlin; that's exactly what I think. You're involved with this, somehow." Arthur relinquished his grip on Merlin's shirt with a look of disdain. "Unless you're going to try and tell me you were just _magically_ at the right place at the right time."

The urge to scream, _Yes, actually, I do have magic, and I just used it to save your sorry ass_ , bubbled up within Merlin, but he focused on keeping his voice calm as he replied, "I was just trying to help, but if you don't believe me, fine. I'll leave you alone from now on."

Before Arthur could respond, Merlin spun around and hurried to make his way up the beach, not wanting his watering eyes to be visible. He was drained, wet, hurt, and a little bit nauseous, but most of all he was angry. Angry at the crystal and its effect on him, angry at himself for believing he could fix things so easily, and angry at Arthur for being completely blind to the truth.

In retrospect, it would hardly be considered the most mature moment of his life, but Merlin couldn't help but turn back and shout, "I hope when the dog attacks you, it bites you right in the ass!"

"...What dog?!"

The realization that he had unknowingly revealed the next part of the vision dawned on him, and before he could even blink, Arthur was upon him once again. "Merlin, _what dog_?"

***

“Thank God you're safe now, Arthur. I don't know what I would do if you were seriously injured, or...”

Arthur blinked; while the concern over his well-being was appreciated, he never expected the sentiment to be so openly expressed by his father of all people. Bitterness over the fact that Uther was revealing his emotions only after his son was involved in a relatively serious accident buzzed in the back of Arthur’s head, but he immediately squashed all such thoughts before they spread any further. He was now determined to no longer question his father's feelings for him, no matter what brought them to Uther's normally austere and taciturn surface.

“I’m fine, really, Father.” Arthur stilled his voice to come off as cool and collected, even though inside he was nothing but a tangle of frazzled nerves.

But he wasn’t going to let on his distress in fear it would be taken as a sign of frailty. That was part of the unspoken Pendragon family code: never give anyone any weakness they could use against you, whether it was in the boardroom or in real life. For his entire life, he thought that applied to dealings with family as well, but after being privy to emotional cracks in his father’s façade, he wasn’t so sure. “It was just a freak occurrence, nothing more.”

He didn’t bother to share with his father that the situation at the pier was supposedly just one of many Arthur would have to face if he remained in Ealdor. That was only if the “predictions” of a certain gangly, blue-eyed, self-proclaimed psychic were to be taken seriously.

When confronted by Arthur after making that cryptic “dog” comment, Merlin confessed that he had foreseen Arthur’s death in the crystal reading. That the longer Arthur stayed in town, the more likely his life was in grave danger.

If he hadn't been still recovering from the shock of his fall at the time, Arthur would have laughed at Merlin's explanation. Not just for the utter ridiculousness of it (wasn't a fortune of death just a bit overly dramatic?), but also the sheer relief that rolled over him when he found out that was the real reason Merlin had told him to leave Ealdor after the reading. He would rather take vague warnings from fake psychics over possible public detractors of his company any day.

In the end, Arthur had cut off ramblings about a rabid dog with a curt warning that Merlin should stay the hell away from him, or else.

And yet, something still bothered him after the day's events: if Merlin was just a common charlatan with no real psychic abilities, how did he know to be at the pier just when the accident happened? Arthur knew there was a possibility he could have drowned--he didn't remember passing out, nor did he know long he had been unconscious--if Merlin hadn't been there. The only reason--besides his wounded pride--Arthur hadn't offer his gratitude was because he had been so sure Merlin had been involved with the accident somehow. But now, as he looked back over what happened after recounting it to his father, he was starting to have his doubts. What if...what if...

"Arthur, are you listening to me?"

Arthur jerked back to the present, mentally reprimanding himself for letting his attention wander while he still had his father on the phone. "I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"

"I asked if you knew of any news reports on the matter," Uther said, his usual formality locked back in place. "Has anyone discovered your identity because of this?"

An image of Merlin flashed in Arthur's mind for a brief second before he shook his head. He wasn't going to mention Merlin to his father, not until he got to the bottom of what was really going on. "None that I know of, sir. It's possible that witnesses at the pier may have spoken to someone about it, but I believe no one knew I was involved." _No one except Merlin._

Usually his father could tell when he was lying (Arthur had made no mention of being rescued by Merlin in his story, and instead simply stated he had swam back to shore himself), but perhaps Uther's ability was dampened because of the distance between them. "Good, good. I hate this cloak-and-dagger way of business just as much as you do, but I ask that you continue to keep your reason for being there a secret for now. I'll send a PR representative there just in case any more mishaps occur, as well as a few members of our security team."

Arthur frowned in confusion. "Wouldn't that make me come off as more conspicuous? And I hardly think one accident with a bike warrants bodyguards, do you?" He couldn’t shake the distinct notion that there was something his father wasn’t quite telling him.

"There have been insider reports that suggest we aren't the only ones looking to acquire a holding in Ealdor within a year," There was a pause on Uther's end, and when he spoke again, his voice was brimming with obvious disdain. "It seems that Essetir Lodge wants to try their hand at the territory as well."

Essetir Lodge was hardly one of their biggest competitors, but still a formidable opponent and not one to be taken lightly. The company's CEO, Cenred King, was considered by many to be too young for his position, but proved to be a shrewd and cutthroat businessman. Quite literally, if the rumors surrounding him were to be believed. Stories about shady dealings and grisly murders that happened in one of his hotel chains frequently splashed into the news, but despite many investigations pointing in Cenred's direction, he had never been officially charged with anything.

"Why now?" Arthur asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Ealdor is closer to their main headquarters than ours; you’d think they would've swooped down on the location ages ago."

Uther scoffed, and Arthur could almost feel his father sneer through the phone line. "It's because Cenred is a damn coward when it comes to expanding his empire on his own, but seeks to undermine this company in any way he can. His business practices are unethical and dubious at best, no matter if the police findings always mysteriously come up short. You best be on your guard at all times now, Arthur. I don't trust that man at all."

The concept was so surreal, to think of the lengths a person might go just in order to succeed. But years of experience had already prepared Arthur on how desperate and greedy men could become. "Of course, Father."

Seemingly satisfied with Arthur's answer, Uther pressed on to add, "Also, I have taken the liberty of researching a few possible properties that are for sale in that area. I emailed you the list; since I want a rush on this job, I'm putting you in charge of deciding on which location would be best."

A burst of pride rocketed through Arthur at being granted such a huge responsibility and honor. "Thank you, sir. I'll scout them out right away, as well as send you our reports on the tourist trade."

"See that you do, Arthur." There was a click, and then a dial tone in Arthur's ear, but his father's habit of hanging up without exchanging goodbyes never really bothered him anymore. Especially not when it seemed his day could be salvaged after all.

Running his hand through his dark wavy locks as he came from the bathroom, Gwaine halted mid-step when he spotted Arthur. "Shit, you're smiling after being on the phone with your father... That can only mean one thing--the world is about to end, isn't it?" 

Arthur didn't rise to take the bait, and instead waved the cell phone he held in his hand. "Thanks for letting me use this, but I'm going to need to borrow it for a little longer."

His own cell phone had fallen out of his pocket and was now residing on the bottom of the ocean floor somewhere, with all his notes and data with it. Arthur mourned the loss like it had been a limb shorn from his body.

“Hell no.” Gwaine’s deft fingers pinched the phone away before Arthur could protest. “I already gave out my number to a few people when I was out earlier; I don’t want to give the wrong idea if another guy was answering my cell phone.” He waggled his eyebrows lecherously. “Of course, if you actually took up my offer...”

“I told you before, you’re not my type, Gwaine.” Arthur rolled his eyes, not wanting to admit that he had almost taken Gwaine up on his “offe”r once or twice in the past. But then Arthur would return to his senses and remember that this was Gwaine--even if he oozed “pure sex” (as he so modestly put it), the two of them would probably drive each other up a wall if they ever ended up together. Well, more so than usual.

Gwaine took a running leap to land on the bed next to Arthur, the springs in the mattress squeaking in loud protest from the bulk of his weight. “Bullshit, I’m everybody’s type.” He stretched against the covers lazily while fixing Arthur with a cheeky grin. “Even people I haven’t met before just take one look at me and boom! Instantly their type.”

“That is, until you open your mouth and speak, ruining your allure,” Lance countered good-naturedly as he entered the room, the white plastic bags in his hands filled with tourist pamphlets, various souvenirs, and Chinese takeaway. Gwaine tore into the bag containing the latter, and feigned offense around a mouthful of pork chow mein. “Thou doth wound me, good sirs."

The look Gwaine pulled was so comical, Arthur couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. The earlier events at the pier were still weighing heavily on his mind, but the high from receiving his father's praise was quickly counteracting any lingering ill effects. It was then that he realized how much he missed joking around with his friends, and wondering if they were right in assuming he was stressing himself too much over his job.

"And yet, _somehow_ , life manages to go on," Arthur retorted sarcastically, ducking out of the pathway of the sauteed mushroom thrown in his direction.

"But seriously, Arthur, do you even know what your type is anymore?" Gwaine snorted, settling back onto the bed as he opened a bag of egg rolls. "No offense, but all you seem interested in lately is work. So unless you have a fetish for financial reports I really don't want to know about..."

Arthur groaned, stealing the egg rolls out of Gwaine's grasp as penance for earlier. "Gwaine, I am not talking to you about my sex life." _Or lack thereof_.

"What I think Gwaine's trying to say is that we're worried about you. You just seem so tense and withdrawn lately, and that was even before we came here," Lance started, throwing Gwaine another pack of egg rolls before any squabbling could start. "You could always try to juggle business with pleasure, you know."

"I tried that with Gwen, and you saw how well that worked out for me." Spotting Lance's flinch at his self-deprecating words, Arthur quickly gave his friend his best apologetic smile. "I told you already, it's okay. You give her a lot more than I ever could, and she's much happier now than she could ever be with me. Besides, while I loved her, it was like being with my sister... If my sister wasn't a blood-sucking harpy, that is."

Gwaine grunted in agreement as he wolfed down his food, but Lance studied Arthur in a quiet way that became slightly unsettling. Not willing to continue the conversation any further, Arthur took a bite from his egg roll before grabbing his laptop bag off the spot of his bed. "Anyways, I'm going to try find someplace in this damn town that actually has a decent enough internet signal and try to get some actual work done."

That was another thing he mentally added to the list of features the Pendragon Suites location in Ealdor should have: a business center, complete with WiFi, fax machines, and anything else for the person who couldn't leave their work at home. People like him, who felt naked without access to some sort of technology and reminders of the daily grind they escaped from in the first place.

“Arthur.” Lance’s tone was casual, but his eyes were filled with obvious concern. “...Be careful while you’re out there.”

“Yeah, watch out for any more rogue cyclists.” Gwaine added with a cheeky grin, letting out an _oof_ when Arthur chucked a pillow at his face.

"Don't worry." Arthur grabbed one of the fortune cookies on a whim--it reminded him of Merlin and his supposed "fortunes", and he found himself shaking his head at the absurdity of the idea again--and stuffed it into his back pocket. "I think I’ve had enough excitement for one day."

***

Apparently, Merlin was a bit of a masochist.

He had to be; why else would he be so determined to protect Arthur, especially after the incident at the pier had hardly gone in Merlin's favor. He finally had the chance to explain the outcome of the reading--he didn't go into specific imagery, but stressed how much danger Arthur's life was currently in--and yet Arthur still refused to believe him, probably chalking Merlin up to be some sort of creepy stalker.

Common sense dictated that he probably should just wash his hands of the whole matter and walk away before he got even more involved. Even if Merlin ranted and raved, pleading until he was blue in the face, Arthur would never listen to a single word he had to say in the matter. It wouldn't be Merlin's fault that the stupid prat got himself killed.

But even though Arthur's safety wasn't technically his responsibility, Merlin would never forgive himself if he stood by and let one of his visions come true. And wasn't just the loss of a life that bothered him any more.

Will's voice popped into his head, teasing about a possibility of having a crush on Arthur, and Merlin groaned. If he did indeed have a crush on Arthur, he really was a complete and utter masochist for falling for a person who belittled him constantly. It shouldn't matter that Arthur had boyish good looks that could make one's heart skip a beat if his sour, egotistical personality ruined it all.

No, it was more than just an unfortunate infatuation; Merlin was still curious as to why his magic reacted so strongly to Arthur in the first place. And there was only one person he knew that could help him in that department.

As soon as Merlin stepped into the shop, Gaius took one look at him dripping water on the floor and held up a hand before Merlin could say anything. "Not one word until you go upstairs and change out of those wet clothes. Whatever you have to say can wait until you're no longer ruining the carpet."

Even after a thorough shower, Merlin still felt like he had a layer of salt and sand caked on him, but at least it was nice to be in an outfit that didn't rub uncomfortably whenever he walked. Gaius handed him a cup of hot tea and directed him to a chair as soon as Merlin came back downstairs, his eyebrow arched in the classic quizzical position. "Now, care to tell me why you've returned so late, soaked from head to toe with seawater?"

Merlin spilled everything, starting with his magic being drawn to Arthur, to the vivid and horrendous images of his reading, and ending with what happened at the pier that day. Gaius gasped every now and then, or made little noises of disapproval, but for the most part remained quiet as Merlin told his story.

"...And that's about it, so far." Merlin sighed, his shoulders slumping forward from exhaustion. "What does it all mean? What should I do?"

Gaius hummed pensively, heading to the nearby bookcase to start flipping through the volumes shelved there. “Honestly, I don’t know if you can do anything more than you already have to keep Arthur out of trouble, but maybe you can try a different approach. He mentioned something about research for his father, correct? Perhaps if you assist him, the sooner it’ll be complete, and he can leave earlier than expected.”

“...That’s great, except I only see one problem with that plan.”

“Oh? And what would that be?”

Merlin scowled. “It means I would actually have to spend time with him.”

“Merlin!” Gaius snapped his book shut. “You seem so keen on saving the man, yet act like you don’t want anything to do with him.”

“But Uncle Gaius, you don’t understand,” Merlin whined, running his fingers through his hair in exasperation. “Did you miss the part where I made it clear that it's more of Arthur wanting nothing to do with me? I tried to explain what’s at stake, but when I tried to tell him about my vision, he just brushed me off with a warning to stay away. He’s more likely to call the police the next time he sees me then let me help him.”

He slid down in his chair, glumly toeing at a snag in the carpet with his bare feet. “Arthur probably thinks I’m sort of freak, and maybe I really am.”

“Don’t ever think that,” Gaius gently admonished, coming over to Merlin’s side and giving his shoulder a comforting squeeze. “You know as well as I do that people tend to lash out when faced with things they don’t understand. They get scared.”

“Scared?” Merlin echoed, his inflection overflowing with obvious skepticism. “I doubt it. I don’t think anything could scare Arthur, or else I would have used it against him already.” After seeing Gaius frown in reproach, he hastily added, "Only if it would make him leave Ealdor faster."

"Be that as it may, I sense there's something about him that he's not quite telling us, so I think you should investigate the matter more thoroughly. Besides, if your magic seems to be drawn to him, he can't be that bad, can he?"

After a moment of silence--and an intense staring contest that Gaius definitely won--Merlin threw his hands up in the air in defeat. " _Fine_. But if you have to bail me out of jail later because the ass managed to find a reason to call the cops on me, I get to say I told you so."

"Of course you do," Gaius chuckled dryly, moving to stack a few selected books together before thrusting them in Merlin's direction. "In the meantime, I have a little bit of a homework assignment for you. While your case has always been an unique one, these texts are the closest thing I have to explain how to control your instinctive magic a little better. I was going to wait until you were a bit older, but now it sounds like you need the crash course."

Merlin grunted painfully as the books were plopped into his lap, his legs straining to support the combined weight."...Thanks, I guess. But aren't you going to stay and help me with research?" He glanced up, blinking in confusion as he finally realized Gaius wasn’t wearing his usual tie-dye shirt and faded hemp-based cargo pants. The image of his uncle being dressed in a button up shirt and wool slacks was a rare one, and Merlin raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Not tonight, I’m afraid,” Gaius replied, his cheeks tinged with what looked suspiciously like a blush. “Alice is back in town, so I thought we could get back together for old times’ sake and maybe--”

“La la la, not listening!” Merlin stuck his fingers in his ears and stuck his tongue out playfully, laughing as Gaius huffed in annoyance. “This is one of those times, Merlin, where I wonder if you’re really responsible to handle the shop by yourself, given your apparent level of maturity.”

“Wait, does that mean I get to go--”

“ _No_ ,” Gaius interrupted before Merlin could even finish his question. “You have the evening shift to make up for this morning, so study down here between customers and try to stay out of trouble. I’ll be back later.”

“Yes sir,” Merlin mumbled, transferring the stack of books to the ground by his feet before cracking open the top one. He gave a small wave of acknowledgement when Gaius left, already getting lost in the secrets bound in gilded ink on yellowed, aged pages. While the text could be a bit pretentious and stuffy at times, Merlin ate up every word, always eager to discover anything he could about his magic and its origins.

The majority of those who claimed to practice the art were clueless when it came to real magic, and those who were aware of its actual existence often had to study for years before they could even form a simple spell--like his uncle, who used to be constantly amazed by the stuff Merlin could do without uttering a single incantation. The awe eventually wore off, especially when Gaius discovered that while Merlin was gifted in the arts of sorcery, and thought leaving him untrained would be an absolute waste, like an uncut diamond encased in stone.

(Personally, Merlin thought one of the reasons Gaius was so adamant in his teachings was because he wanted to show off his knowledge of the occult to someone who would appreciate and actually understand it. )

However, even with Gaius's extensive library, Merlin was unable to locate information on exactly what he needed. Poring over dusty manuscripts that discussed reincarnation (yes, their names were "Arthur" and "Merlin", but he wasn't even going to travel down that route of thought) to tomes about soul-bonding that contained pictures that made him go red, he made his way down the stack of selected reading, tossing the unhelpful ones off to a pile. Flipping through the very last one (which talked about destiny and fate in such a pedantic manner that he went cross-eyed), he was forced to accept that--much like other aspects of his magic--his issue was unprecedented and never recorded before.

He snuck a glance at the clock on the wall, surprised to see how much time had passed; it was nearly closing time already, and he had yet to have a single customer. Well, sure, he had a couple of squealing teenage girls who looked around and tittered but didn't actually bother speaking to him before they ran out, a few college students that made him repeat himself multiple times before they understood the shop didn't sell _those_ kind of herbs, and even one off-kilter evangelical lady who claimed he was going to burn in hell for promoting witchcraft.

(He may or may not have made her trip over her gaudy mauve heels after he calmly directed her to the exit, tired of just gritting his teeth into a polite smile as she spewed nonsense on how he was consorting with the devil.)

But for the most part, it was the quiet night he originally expected it to be, and contemplated closing the shop early. It wasn't like Gaius was going to be back anytime soon, if even at all that night--and Merlin nipped the thought in the bud before it progressed any further. He wanted to be able to go to sleep _without_ disturbing mental images in his head, thank you very much.

Before he could flip the sign to "Closed" though, he went through all the preliminary procedures: he counted the money in the till, making a note in the ledger and filling in the day's date in the margin. He then entered the combination of the safe to put the money in, reinforcing the protection spell before leaving a note to Gaius about making a bank run sometime soon. Picking up the books off the floor, he rearranged them back on their appropriate shelves, knowing how much Gaius would gripe if they weren't put back in the right order. Lights were turned off, doors firmly locked, and Merlin did one last sweep of the shop. Satisfied everything seemed to be in its proper place, he started to head upstairs but then paused after a few steps.

“...Aithusa?” He called out, just then realizing that he hadn’t seen his kitten for the majority of the day. Usually Aithusa would have wrapped around Merlin’s ankles while he studied, mewing for attention the entire time. Nearly leaping the entire distance left to his room, Merlin scanned the unmade bed, the pile of dirty clothes on the floor, everywhere for any glimpse of the cat. “Aithusa, where are you hiding this time?”

The food and water bowls by the door looked untouched, and while he told himself not to get overly anxious just yet, Merlin still felt dread claw its way into his stomach. It wasn’t the first time Aithusa had escaped from the confines of the shop, always being an adventurous sort of thing despite his size. He probably got it from his sire, Kilgharrah, the ancient tomcat the shop was named after. Kilgharrah had shown up one day when Gaius was just starting his business, and while the cat hardly stayed in one place at a time, he was known to sun himself in the front window often, giving a golden-eyed glare to anyone who came too close. Kilgharrah had disappeared a few years back, but had left plenty of his offspring behind in Ealdor, Aithusa included.

Merlin worried at his bottom lip; while he didn’t like the idea of Aithusa being outside, he really didn’t like it when it was starting to get dark. He searched the shop one last time before resigning himself to the fact that Aithusa had definitely gotten out somehow, and Merlin had to find him before it was too late. With a sigh, he grabbed a flashlight and his keys, making sure the shop was locked before heading out to the alleyways. He figured that was the best place to start looking, and he cupped his hands around his mouth to project his voice. “Aithusa!”

Panic struck him square in the chest when there was still no sign anywhere; what if something had happened? What if someone didn’t see the blur of white before it was too late and couldn’t stop their vehicle in time? Merlin squeezed his eyes shut tightly to block out the image of Aithusa hurt and bleeding somewhere, and his voice cracked with desperation as he shouted again, “Aithusa! Where are you?!”

The “please” he tacked onto the end of the sentence was barely above a whisper, and he let out one shuddering breath as he struggled to calm himself down. He couldn’t let himself get so worked up, and tried to concentrate on the next best place to look. Perhaps at the docks? Or the dumpsters behind a restaurant?

Suddenly, his magic began to swirl around him, and Merlin widened his eyes in confusion; it had acted like this earlier, when he had been looking for--

And then he remembered: in the vision filled with the gnashing teeth of a rabid dog, Arthur had been protecting a ball of white fur in his arms.

“...No!” he cried out softly, the flashlight rattling on the pavement after he dropped it in shock. “Nonononono...”

Merlin stumbled over the flashlight as he started to run, accidentally kicking it out of his reach. But he didn’t need it any longer, not when he had a path of golden light to follow once more.

***

If he thought he could remain out of trouble for the remainder of the day, Arthur soon discovered he was sorely mistaken.

He had brushed off Lance’s concern for his safety at the time, because while the sentiment was touching, it had come off as completely unnecessary. After all, searching the town for some place to check his email hardly qualified as life-threatening in Arthur’s mind.

Then again, visiting the pier wasn’t supposed to be dangerous either, but he just mentally reaffirmed that the earlier incident had been a freak occurrence. He wasn’t going to let that--nor Merlin’s ramblings about a mysterious killer dog or Arthur’s imminent death--scare him away from the job he was determined to finish.

After a half hour of looking, Arthur managed to find an internet cafe that he could set up a temporary office in. While the technological services they offered weren’t as up-to-date as what he was used to, he was thankful they at least didn’t still rely upon a dial-up connection.

The printouts of the different properties his father had suggested were spread out in the table in front of him, and he fastidiously studied each sheet. If Arthur knew his father as well as he thought he did, no doubt Uther thoroughly weighed the pros and cons of each of the properties himself already, and probably had even selected a few of his personal favorites. It was almost like some sort of test, to see if Arthur could not only choose the same ones but also explain how he arrived at his answers.

Just by their descriptions alone he could weed some of them out of the lineup: while one location was in the right price range, it was too close to other establishments to fit the Pendragon Suites ideal. Most of the company's clientele wanted to be close enough to civilization without their privacy being compromised. Plus, if the hotel ever needed to expand in the future, it needed the extra space to do so, and the acreage the listing provided was just not up to par.

He also tossed the next one he viewed out of the pile of possibilities. It had the space to be sure, and even from the grainy photos that accompanied the ad he could tell that the area seemed scenic enough. The only thing he balked at was the listed price; money was not something the company had to worry about, but Arthur would still like to save as much as he could on the deal.

Jotting down a few notes in the paper margins of the locations he was interested in, Arthur wondered if he could squeeze in a property viewing that same day. But a glance outside at the setting sun told him it would have to wait, and Arthur sighed as he carefully gathered his papers and placed the stack in his bag along with his laptop. He didn't even bother finishing the instant coffee sludge the cafe had provided him, and threw the offending cup into the trash by the front door before walking out into the humid night air.

Even so far inland, he could smell the salt of the ocean drifting with the evening breeze, and he inhaled deeply. That was one thing he was going to miss when he finally left Ealdor: the ability to fill his lungs with the briny scent of the sea and sun-warmed sand. Back in home in Camelot, he couldn't even take one foot outside without the smog pollution and various city aromas assaulting his senses.

Logic dictated that he should turn in early--not just to recover from the day's events, but to also ensure that he had the energy for the property hunting he planned to do in the morning. But he wasn't quite willing to return to the room just yet, and instead found himself meandering Ealdor's sleepy streets with no real aim or purpose. There really wasn't much to see; unlike the city which always seemed to be awake and loudly blaring at all times of the day, after a certain time of night most of the town seemed to shut down for a long slumber. It was a bit surreal to walk a whole block before he saw another living soul, and the people he did run into were a select few that waved to him with such an open-ended friendliness it took him back at first. He was slightly curious of what kind of nightlife Ealdor could supply, if any at all.

Not that Arthur would personally be interested in such a thing; he never cared for the club scene that much in college, even if he did have a hidden fondness for dancing. And while he used to join his friends at a local pub to bond over a pint and a friendly wager over the game being broadcasted on the overhead television, work had consumed his night and weekend times eons ago. Maybe he really had become a "stick in the mud"--as Gwaine so affectionately put it--without fully realizing it, and he didn’t know how he was supposed to feel about that.

A thundering crash tore Arthur from his thoughts, and his eyes immediately darted in the direction the sound came from. The streetlights barely cut through the darkness that coated the nearby alley, and he was just about to brush it off as nothing when he heard the noise again, this time followed by a pitiful wailing.

At first, Arthur decided to ignore it, and started to walk away. But then his curiosity got the better of him, and he retraced his steps to stop at the mouth of the alleyway. He waited for another crash, but only heard frantic scraping against metal and yet another wretched howl. Whatever it was, it definitely didn't seem to be human, and Arthur prepared for the possibility of it being some sort of rodent as he cautiously lifted the lid of the trashcan that was closest to him.

It wasn't a rodent, but just as bad in Arthur's opinion. Something small and furry jumped out at him, and he let out a shout of alarm as he frantically tried to shake it off. Sharp claws dug into the bare skin of his arms despite his efforts, and he stopped his thrashing so he could look down at the white fur now coating his shirt. "Oh, great. I should have know it was you."

Merlin's cat (that had such a ridiculous name Arthur couldn't recall at the moment) mewed softly in response as it tried to bury itself in between Arthur's arms. The thing's normally pristine coat was absolutely filthy, streaked with dirt and god knows what else, and it reeked to high heaven. Arthur wanted to drop it where he stood and go bathe in anti-bacterial wash before he caught some sort of deadly disease, but he couldn't ignore how violently the animal was trembling. Even though there was no love lost between him and the animal, he could tell the poor creature was scared and didn't feel comfortable just abandoning it. "Come on then," he sighed, shifting the strap of the laptop bag on his shoulder so he could carry the cat easier. "I don't know if you're supposed to be out here, but I'll take you back anyways."

Just as Arthur was about to leave, he heard a low growl rumble behind him, making him freeze in place. He had a good idea what kind of animal made the sound, but still slowly turned around to face the dog baring its teeth in his direction. It was impossible to tell what breeds had been mixed together to contribute to its massive and threatening stature, with patchy black and brown fur covering a muscular torso that was marred by old battle wounds in the form of pale, grey scars. Its fangs, yellowed, diseased, and even broken in some areas, jutted over its slobbering jaws, covered in a rabid froth.

For a few heart-pounding seconds, it was a tense standoff between them, until Arthur made the mistake of stepping back. His foot knocked over an empty can, startling the dog and causing it to bark and lunge forward. As the cat hissed and writhed madly in his arms, Arthur managed to dodge the sharp fangs and start to run like hell.

He didn't sneak a glance behind him to see if the dog was following, the clicking of nails against the pavement providing the answer. His bag kept painfully banging into his side with each step he took, and the cat struggled at being gripped so tightly in his arms, but Arthur didn't dare stop or even lessen his pace. The soles of his shoes skidded against the old newspapers littering the ground as he cut around building corners, and he tried everything he could to shake the dog off his trail with little success.

A tangled mass of discarded fishing line seemingly appeared out of nowhere, and before he could catch his footing, he tripped and slammed against the ground. The cat shot from his arms upon landing, darting to safety behind some nearby trash cans. Loose gravel and broken glass dug into his skin where he landed and his right knee throbbed in agony, but he gritted his teeth to stave off the pain as he scrambled to stand. He didn't need to look to know how close the dog was now, and he knew it was useless to run any farther, especially with an injured leg. He quickly searched the area for anything that could be wielded as a weapon, coming up empty-handed. So he braced for impact, using his bag as a makeshift shield just in time as the dog lunged at him again.

There was a loud crack, and considering his recent luck, it was probably his laptop screen breaking from the force of the attack. The dog bounced off with a surprised yelp, shaking its head groggily once or twice before regaining its aggressive stance. Figuring his laptop was probably ruined anyway, Arthur swung the bag wildly, doing his best to avoid the dog’s snapping jaws. Canine teeth suddenly sank into the leather, and the bag was viciously ripped out of Arthur’s hands before he could fully comprehend what was happening.

Not willing to go down without a fight, Arthur yanked off one of his shoes as a last-ditch effort. He felt a bit foolish as he brandished it with one hand, and was involuntarily wincing in preparation for the inevitable bite when a rock hit the side of the dog’s muzzle.

"Hey! Leave them alone!"

There was no mistaking that voice, and Arthur was overwhelmed with a mixture of suspicion and relief and when he saw Merlin step out from the shadows, holding another rock in his hand. Before he could throw it, the dog scampered up to attack Merlin, and Arthur instinctively yelled out a warning: "Watch out!"

What happened next, Arthur wasn't sure: the dog had leapt upwards towards Merlin with bared teeth, but was flung back mid-air into a brick wall with a sickening thud, the body limply sliding down into trash bags nearby. Before Arthur could congratulate Merlin on landing a decent blow (and for having the fastest reflexes he couldn't even see), Merlin was hovering over the dog and cautiously running his fingers through the mangy fur.

"...Oh God, I didn't mean to hit it that hard," Merlin whispered with a breathless sob, catching Arthur off-guard. Shouldn't Merlin be glad that he managed to stop the animal before it hurt anyone, if it hadn't already?

But as the cat left its hiding place to bound over to its owner, Arthur began to understand: Merlin hadn't hurt the dog because he wanted to, but out of necessity born from protecting Arthur. He wanted to tease Merlin about being so emotional and distraught over a violent stray, but found he couldn't. Not when he was too engrossed in watching Merlin murmur comforting words to the obviously dying animal.

The look of absolute grief on Merlin’s face when the dog let out one last, long whine before finally laying still shook Arthur to the core.

After replacing his shoe, Arthur gathered his ruined laptop bag as he limped over, staring down at Merlin incredulously. His mind swirled with questions he didn’t know if he even wanted the answers to, and for the first time in his life, he was at a total loss at what to say.

***

Sometimes, Merlin actually kind of despised his magic.

Complex spells would backfire against him every now and then, often blowing up right in his face--literally. Or they wouldn’t work at all, and he would end up repeating the same string of words over and over to get the cadence just right.

But what he hated the most was when his powers lashed out with a mind of their own, leaving him with no chance to really consider possible consequences until they had already happened.

He knew the dog had been the first to attack, but Merlin had just wanted to defend himself, not cause it actual harm. But the moment the dog had lunged towards him, fear gripped his body so tightly he couldn’t move, couldn’t even think. So his magic had instinctively reacted for him.

Maybe he should have been thankful that he was safe, but as he had looked down at the whimpering mass of fur at his feet, burning bile rose in his throat and threatened to gag him. All he could focus on was that the dog was another living being, possibly even someone’s pet at one time in its life.

And he had sent it to its death because he still didn’t know how to fully control himself.

There was nothing Merlin wanted more than to take the animal back to the shop and try to patch it up, maybe use the little knowledge he had of the healing arts to save it and change its temperament. But he knew the dog wouldn’t survive in time, so instead he murmured a calming spell to ease the passing, choking out a small apology as the dog’s unfocused eyes closed shut.

A sudden movement out of the corner of his vision caught Merlin's attention, and his teary gaze darted upwards to land upon Arthur. Realization dawned over him a few seconds later: Arthur had probably seen everything.

His gut clenched at the thought of what would happen now, and he automatically scrambled backwards as Arthur came near. That's when he noticed the blood oozing from scrapes on Arthur's arms, and he blurted out, "Oh shit, you're hurt!"

Arthur tore his eyes away from Merlin long enough to look down at his wounds, as if he was noticing them for the first time. "...I'll survive," he replied calmly before going back to staring at Merlin, like he was a puzzle Arthur couldn't totally figure out. "It would have been a lot worse if you hadn't come along when you did. I didn't even see you move."

"I move faster than most people," Merlin responded hastily, biting his tongue at how close the statement came to the truth. "Anyways, I'm sure there's a payphone or something around here so we can call someone and then--"

"No." Even though he was unmistakably dazed from the incident (and quite possibly in some sort of shock), Arthur's voice was filled with the same steady conviction he had back at the pier. "I'll be fine, there's no need for anyone else to get involved."

For being the same man that threatened to press charges against Merlin earlier, Arthur seemed hesitant to deal with any sort of law enforcement. His uneasiness when discussing his father's business had made Merlin curious before, but now he couldn't stop his imagination from running wild. Was it possible that Arthur was actually hiding out from the authorities? Or maybe he was on some sort of witness protection program, and had been sent to Ealdor for his own safety. If he was just using the premise of a working vacation as a cover, that could maybe explain why his life was in so much danger.

"Arthur, you're bleeding everywhere. If you won't see a doctor, at least let me take you back to the shop," Merlin insisted, feeling this was somehow all his fault. If he had been there sooner, things could have gone a lot better than they had. Arthur wouldn't have been injured, and a life wouldn't have ended that night. "It's not that far from here, and we have a first-aid kit so you don't have to walk back to your room with your arms like that."

Hesitation briefly flitted across Arthur's features before his expression hardened, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the clenching of his jaw. Remembering how Arthur accused him of being a part of the incident at the pier, Merlin groaned. "You don't think I have something to do with this too, do you?

"That's not it," Arthur said sharply, sounding like he was still trying to convince himself of his answer. His next words were so soft Merlin wasn't sure he was supposed to hear him: "I don't really know what to think right now."

Even though all past interactions with Arthur ended poorly, Merlin couldn't ignore someone who was injured. "Then let me help you."

Aithusa picked that moment to paw at the hem of his jeans, and Merlin scooped the kitten up into his arms. It wasn’t clear who the squeezing embrace he gave was supposed to comfort more, Aithusa or himself.

“Please, Arthur,” Merlin pleaded, despair now in his voice at the realization that it could have been his pet that died that night, “It’s the least I can I do.”

The long bout of silence that followed was so stifling, one could hear the proverbial pin drop. But just as Merlin was about to take back the offer, Arthur sighed in defeat. "Come here, then."

Frowning slightly in confusion, Merlin tentatively walked over to the spot Arthur indicated by his side. But before he could ask the reason why, Arthur’s arm was thrown over his shoulder, and he jumped at the pressure. “What--”

“Twisted my knee, so I need to lean on you for a bit,” Arthur hissed as he shifted his balance to his good leg. “Of course, I don’t like it any more than you do, and it would help if you weren’t so tall.”

“Oh! Um, here.” Clumsily shuffling Aithusa into the crook of one arm, Merlin used the other to wrap supportively around Arthur. The gesture had been an innocent reflex (he just wanted to help distribute the weight), but he paused when he felt Arthur noticeably tense underneath him. "...Sorry, is this okay?"

Arthur grunted in response but didn’t recoil, which Merlin took as a sign to leave his hand where it gripped Arthur’s side. He was itching to get to the shop as soon as possible; the longer they remained in the street, the greater their chances were of being seen. Like in most small towns, word was bound to spread quickly, and if anyone saw Merlin leading a bleeding, limping man around, everyone who knew him would be pestering him all about it the very next morning.

Still, Merlin didn’t want to push Arthur too much, so he shortened his regularly long stride so they could walk at an encumbered pace. For a few minutes they remained quiet, the only sound being the scraping of feet on the pavement, and Merlin soon allowed himself to get lost in his own troubled thoughts.

So he almost missed Arthur’s words when he suddenly spoke again. “Your cat is not hurt too, is it?”

“What?” Merlin blinked out of his stupor and caught Arthur staring down at the kitten curled up against his chest. While Aithusa was much more subdued than usual (and had been trembling when Merlin first picked him up), he didn’t seem to be physically harmed in any way. “I don’t think so, just shaken up. He probably won’t try to escape the shop for awhile.”

“At least it was only one of us, then,” Arthur said, wearing an indescribable expression before he turned his face down and away. Even if the tone had been nonchalant, Merlin’s heart fluttered against his ribcage at the words and their meaning: Arthur--who made it no secret how much he disliked Aithusa--had still protected the kitten, even with the threat to his own life. Who seemed to be more concerned about any possible injuries Aithusa might have received than his bleeding arms and twisted knee.

No matter how badly Arthur treated him, Merlin would be forever grateful all the same. “Thank you, by the way,” He murmured. “For saving him.”

"It's nothing," Arthur said, then paused, fixing Merlin with that inscrutable gaze once more. "...I probably should be thanking you anyways."

A seed of hope planted itself inside Merlin; maybe the plan of helping Arthur wouldn't be so impossible after all. "You're welcome," Merlin said, grinning even though Arthur hadn't technically thanked him. It was close enough.

Arthur didn't mention how much his injuries were bothering him, but by the time they arrived at the shop it was obvious he was in serious pain. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his face looked pinched and drawn, and his breathing was heavier than before. Merlin took one look at him, then at the staircase that lead upstairs. "Here, come sit down in one of these chairs, and I'll run and get the first-aid kit."

After depositing Arthur into one of the waiting room chairs as gently as possible, he dashed to the upstairs bathroom. He almost forgot he was still holding Aithusa until the kitten squirmed out of his arms to scamper off to the bedroom (and more importantly to his food bowl).

Merlin found the first-aid kit under the sink cabinet with relative ease, and was about to rush back downstairs when his reflection in the mirror made him pause. He thought Arthur looked horrible, but was surprised he didn't look that great either. His shirt had streaks and flecks of blood on it from Arthur's arm across his shoulders, and there were smudges of dirt all over from Aithusa rubbing against his chest.

But what stuck out the most to him the most was his eyes. They were red-rimmed and watery as if he had been bawling, and he couldn't even remember if he had in fact started crying or not. Ignoring how he had the look of a haunted man, he splashed cold water on his face as he reminded himself he had to focus on Arthur at the moment. He could heal any emotional scars he received from the night's events later.

Merlin actually tripped on the bottom step in his haste to return, barely managing to catch himself before he fell. Somehow Arthur looked worse in just the few minutes time that had passed, his normally sun-kissed skin looking unnaturally pallid. His head was propped against the wall, and he cracked open one eye to glance over at Merlin by his side. "Took you long enough."

"Sorry, I had to find it," Merlin lied, regretful he hadn't thought of something to stanch the loss of blood before he had left Arthur alone. He carefully inspected Arthur's arms, thankful that the majority of the bleeding had actually slowed on its own, save for a few of the deeper wounds. "I can't tell if there's any glass still in there, so I have to wash it out. It might sting a bit, just so you know."

Arthur didn't respond, so Merlin took in a deep breath as he shook the bottle of antiseptic wash vigorously. He placed a sterile pad underneath the area he was spraying to catch the runoff excess, gingerly wiping down the lacerations to remove any debris left in the skin. Luckily, there were just little bits of gravel that were dislodged easily enough, and soon Merlin could wrap Arthur's arms with gauze bandages. "There, that should help. Now, let me see your knee."

Merlin scooted a chair over so he could raise Arthur's leg up onto the seat. He slowly rolled the fabric of the jeans up, but stopped with a gasp at the sight of Arthur's knee. Besides a few scrapes from the areas where the pavement had cut through the denim, the skin around the knee was already mottled heavily with the onset signs of bruising. The knee tissue itself looked extremely swollen, at least three times the size of its counterpart. It all looked extremely painful, and while Merlin was hit with a fresh wave of guilt, he felt a tiny bit of admiration as well. A weaker man would have probably been griping about the pain the entire walk back, but not Arthur, who decided to suffer in silence.

"There's not much I can do for this," Merlin said as he punctured the inner seal of the kit's ice pack to activate it. "Just put ice on it to help the swelling go down. You shouldn't walk on it any time soon though."

Arthur huffed. "Didn't know you were a doctor too, Merlin."

"I'm not, my uncle is. Or was, before he retired and opened this shop full-time," Merlin explained as he rolled an ace bandage around Arthur's tender knee. "He still sees some of his older patients for minor things when they refuse to visit another doctor, and I help him sometimes. Like with small cuts or sprains, things like that."

After he made sure there was enough of a barrier between the skin and the ice pack, he carefully placed the ice pack on top of the knee and secured it with the remaining bandage. "There. I know it looks stupid, but it'll help. Let me get you some water so you can take some pain reliever too."

"I can take it now." Arthur held out his hand expectantly, throwing the pills Merlin gave him into his mouth and swallowing quickly. He then sighed as he leaned his head back against the wall again. In Merlin's opinion, Arthur looked better now that he was all cleaned up, but was probably still in a lot of pain.

"Um," Merlin started hesitantly as he put the supplies back in kit, "I've been thinking--"

Arthur made a little noise at that. Merlin pointedly ignored him and continued, "--that if you needed a tour guide, I could help you after all."

"...I know your mother suggested something like that--" Maybe Merlin was imagining it, but he swore he heard a trace of guilt in Arthur's voice. "--but I'm pretty sure that's not a good idea."

"How come?" When Arthur didn't answer, Merlin sighed. "Look, I'm not asking for us to be friends or anything like that. For one thing, I could never be friends with such an ass."

That's when Arthur did something unexpected: he laughed, _really laughed_. A rich, hearty sound that seemed to melt some of the tension out of his body, not to mention turn Merlin's insides into jelly. "And I could never be friends with such an idiot, so at least we agree on something."

Merlin grinned. "Right. But I'm still willing to help, if you let me."

If all worked according to plan, the arrangement would benefit both of them. Arthur would be able to get the job for his father done faster, and Merlin wouldn't have to worry so much about not getting to Arthur in time if he needed to be rescued again.

“...Fine, sure, whatever.” Arthur groaned. "Just...just stop...talking..."

The slurring of Arthur’s speech caused Merlin to look up in alarm. “Arthur? Are you okay?”

Arthur was slumped slightly forward, his eyes tightly closed, and the only sound he made was that of his soft and steady breathing. Merlin’s eyes widened in surprise, thinking Arthur must have been completely exhausted to fall asleep in the middle of a conversation.

He had taken too many risks with his magic around Arthur already, but an idea nevertheless wormed its way into Merlin’s mind and refused to leave. He chewed on his bottom lip, glanced at Arthur’s sleeping face one last time, and then placed his hand over the injured knee. “I really hope this works."

Healing spells were never really Merlin’s forte, despite Gaius’s constant attempts to train him otherwise. But while he was still relatively inexperienced in relation to his uncle when it came to the medical arts, Merlin's magic once again seemed eager to help in anything dealing with Arthur. Just in case there was a chance Arthur could overhear him, Merlin whispered the incantation, watching as the knee was bathed in a golden glow that soon disappeared after a few seconds. He repeated the spell on Arthur's arms to the same effect, pulling his hands away before Arthur could stir from the sensation.

Merlin wasn't stupid; he hadn't healed the injuries completely, but just enough that they wouldn't be as severe. Already Arthur looked more relaxed in his sleep, and Merlin was reminded how handsome Arthur really was, especially when he wasn’t scowling or running off his mouth.

He probably should at least call animal control about removing the dog's body from the street, or even call his mother and ask her to tell Arthur's friends what had happened. But using so much magic in one day put a heavy drain on him, and Merlin yawned as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

Eventually he gave up the fight against sleep, and as he settled into a spot by Arthur’s feet, Merlin wondered what the hell he had exactly gotten himself into.

***

Arthur couldn't remember the last time he’d actually overslept.

Which made it more surprising that he had overslept sitting in probably one of the least comfortable chairs in existence. He rubbed at the awful crick that had formed in his neck as he looked at his surroundings with bleary, sleep-encrusted eyes.

What he saw made him jolt completely awake in his seat as the memory of the previous night rushed over his consciousness.

"Shit," he said, wincing at how loud his voice echoed off the walls of the quiet room. Something stirred nearby, and he blinked at the sight of Merlin leaning against the leg of Arthur's chair, still asleep.

And how Arthur's hand had somehow found itself a place in Merlin's hair during the night.

Arthur drew his hand back like it had been burned, thanking whatever above deity that Merlin didn't wake up because of the sudden movement. His heart flapped like a wild bird trapped in his rib cage as he struggled to comprehend what had exactly happened. Something had definitely shifted in their relationship--while he wasn't fond of Merlin in the slightest, Arthur now thought he might have been too harsh in his judgment. That he had taken the stress of the job on a scapegoat named Merlin, and it really wasn't fair. Not when he was starting to suspect he really did owe Merlin his life twice already.

Even he could admit that the thought scared the ever-living hell out of him.

Honestly, Arthur didn't quite know what to think any more. But he wasn't going to rack his brain about it, not when he already had the makings of a splitting headache. As he pushed himself to his feet, he braced for the pain that never fully came.

That caught Arthur off-guard. He had expected to have a limp for at least a few days, but as he gingerly placed a hand over his injured knee, all he felt was a slight tenderness. Even the stinging in his arms had disappeared, and as he unwrapped one of the gauze bandages, he was surprised to find that the majority of his wounds had miraculously healed over in the night.

Immediately his gaze was fixed on Merlin (who was still asleep, even with all the commotion), and Arthur wondered just what kind of medical attention he had exactly received. As soon as the thought popped into his head however, Arthur shot it down. He had always tended to heal rather fast, and perhaps his injuries just didn't seem as bad in the morning light. No matter how much pain he had been in the night before.

While he and Merlin had established a shaky form of a truce, he was too unnerved by the manner in which he woke up to remain in the shop much longer. He practically dashed outside, thankful that although he slept in, it was still early and the streets were relatively empty as the town came alive for the day. With every person he did pass, he lowered his head in embarrassment, as if the common passerby could read into the expression on his face.

Some part of him argued that, truce or no truce, Merlin was an annoying idiot who could blow the whistle on Arthur's entire operation in Ealdor if he ever found out the truth. The best thing to do now would be to just treat their whole partnership as some sort of business deal and not get too close.

And yet Arthur suddenly found he couldn't stop himself from thinking how the corners of Merlin's bright blue eyes crinkled when he smiled, how gentle and warm his hands had been while tending to Arthur's injuries, and how soft his hair had been tangled in Arthur's fingers.

Arthur scowled, shaking the image of how serene Merlin looked as he slept out his head. He must have been more eager for humanly affection than he thought if he was attracted to _Merlin_ of all people.

As he finally arrived at the bed and breakfast, he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw no one was around to see him slinking in at such an unusual time. He made his way to the dining room, hoping breakfast was a repeat performance of the day before. His stomach rumbled in agreement.

However, if he was expecting a peaceful meal, he soon found he was out of luck. He recognized the group of people that were gathering around the food, his focus on one dark-haired, green-eyed woman in particular. "Great,” he groaned, “I didn't know you were coming."

"Nice to see you too, dear brother." Morgana smirked as she quickly kissed both of his cheeks, that ridiculous greeting she had picked up while schooling abroad one summer. "And who else do you think Father should send for public relations in Ealdor than the Head of PR herself?"

Arthur whipped his head around to see if anyone was listening. "Why don’t you say that a little louder, Morgana? I don’t think everyone could hear you."

Morgana prodded his shoulder with the tip of one well-manicured fingernail. "You don't need to lecture me of all people about possible breaches of confidentiality, Arthur. In case you haven’t noticed, everyone in this room is already well aware of the company's interest.”

She was right, of course, but Arthur would rather walk barefoot over burning coals than to admit it. A brief glance around confirmed what he already knew: everyone there was connected to Pendragon Suites in one form or another. There was no mistaking Percy and his massive form towering over the buffet table; the man was built like a tank, and could probably eat everything that was spread out on the tables by himself. He was laughing and conversing with Leon, who kept having to brush his ginger-colored curls out of his eyes as he kept darting glances around the room, ever alert for a sign something was off. It was a unusual sight to see them both in their civilian clothes, considering that Uther usually made his personal bodyguards dress appropriately, but it probably would help strengthen their guise of simple tourists.

Based on pure habit, they had still both stood at attention as soon as they spotted Arthur, but he signaled for them to be at ease with a small wave. He still questioned the reason for their presence in Ealdor. Not only did he still find the idea of needing their protection ridiculous (even if he could have used their help last night), it made him nervous of having so many people from Pendragon Suites in one centralized location. Not that he couldn't trust them in maintaining company secrets, but the chances of information slipping out were exponentially increased now.

If that wasn't bad enough, Morgana had also brought her assistant/best friend along, and of course Gwen had immediately latched onto Lance. The two were wearing the same besotted expressions they always had when around each other, with Lance running a hand through the black ringlets of Gwen's hair while she smiled bashfully in return. They were one of those perfect couples everyone claimed to hate, yet were secretly envious of, and Arthur still couldn't believe Lance had doubts about being the right man for Gwen to marry.

One would think Arthur might be jealous of the couple, considering the history he had with Gwen. But while Gwen was a lovely, beautiful woman, and he had fond memories of when the two of them were together, Arthur was actually happy that his friends had found each other. It gave him hope that even though he might have failed in every relationship he had (to the point where he had practically given up on them), at least there were still people in today's age that could find each other and thrive. He might have been a cynic to the outside world, but deep down, Arthur really could be a foolish romantic at times.

He just hoped Gwen's impromptu visit wouldn't distract Lance from his assigned duties, though he really shouldn't have to worry. If there was anyone he had to be concerned about, it was-- "Where's Gwaine?"

Morgana wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Honestly, Arthur, why do you think I would be interested in the whereabouts of that delinquent?"

"Morgana..." Arthur started, a slight warning in his tone. While Gwaine had some minor run-ins with the law in the past and never failed to drive Arthur up the wall at least once a day, he was still Arthur's friend. "He's not a--"

"What I'm more concerned about,” Morgana interrupted, “is where you have been? When we arrived early this morning, poor Lance was completely beside himself that you hadn't returned last night. He was about to organize a search party after breakfast."

Arthur glanced over at Lance, who had yet to even acknowledge his presence. "He doesn't look that concerned to me."

"Arthur."

Unfortunately, Arthur recognized that tone. It was the one Morgana always used when she was about go off on a tirade where he couldn’t a word in edgewise. But instead of a lecture, Morgana just sighed, her expression softening into something that was so uncharacteristic of her, it was almost physically jarring. "Arthur," she repeated, quieter this time, "what on Earth happened to you? Father had mentioned there had been an accident, but lead me to believe you weren't injured."

Arthur's relationship with his sister had always been a complicated one. While they were civil enough around each other nowadays (well, mostly civil), their childhood had been filled with constant fighting and bickering. As the older sibling from one of Uther's previous marriages, Morgana had taken it upon herself to tease and challenge Arthur over almost every decision he ever made. Yet she would be fiercely loyal to her brother if the situation called for it, especially during one of their father's infamous lectures.

He had grown used to her brand of "tough love" (learning to dish it out himself as much as he could take it), so to see her so openly concerned bothered him more than any insult she could throw at him. The last time she had worn her feelings so openly, it had been right after he broke things off with Gwen. Morgana had stormed into his apartment, fully prepared to chew him out for breaking her best friend's heart. But she must have recognized something in his expression that even he wasn't aware of, because instead she ended up sitting on his couch with him for the remainder of that night.

While he had needed and appreciated her concern then, Arthur didn't think it was necessary now. First Uther, now Morgana; Arthur was starting to think he tripped and fell into some alternate dimension where his family wore their hearts on their sleeves, and he wasn't sure how to react. “I wasn’t.”

At Morgana’s pointed stare at the bandages on his arms, spotted red from wounds he no longer had, Arthur added, “This happened last night, it’s nothing.”

"It hardly looks like 'nothing', Arthur," Morgana said, her familiar snark returning for a brief moment as she gripped one of his wrists to examine him more closely.

"Really, I'm fine, Morgana." Arthur shrugged, hoping that would appease her curiosity. He really didn't want to go in full detail of last night’s events at the moment, even though he knew he had to tell her sooner or later. The traits of a good PR representative were infused in Morgana’s blood, and she would probably cut his balls off and serve them back to him if he ever managed to keep such crucial information from her for too long. She could spin any story to the company's advantage, and would no doubt paint him as a heroic victim if the public's sympathy was ever needed. “Just a few scrapes, but I promise to give you a full report if you're _really_ that worried about me.”

It was supposed to be a joke, but Morgana’s face just blanched, and Arthur suspected there was something she wasn’t fully telling him. “Morgana, what--”

“I don’t think you should stay here, okay?” Morgana blurted out, her normally cool composure cracking and falling away completely. “Just...just a bad feeling I had.”

“...For a second there, I thought you were going to say something serious,” Arthur chuckled in disbelief, slightly relieved. If she had mentioned a tangible reason, like insider information that could jeopardize everything being released to the public, he might have been troubled. But he had no faith in just "woman's intuition", let alone anyone else's for that matter.

He pulled away from her grasp and grabbed a plate of food to finally stop his stomach from gnawing on itself. “Trust me, Morgana, I’ve had enough of ‘bad feelings’ the past few days." he said, the memory of Merlin’s first warning automatically popping to mind. "I don't need any more.”

Before Morgana could question what Arthur exactly meant, Gwaine stumbled in the room, a dopey grin on his face. It was obvious what he was up to the previous night, judging by the lipstick stains on his shirt and the smell of cheap beer and stale cigarettes that clung to him like second skin. "Please tell me there's coffee," he said, yawning loudly as he stretched, "and it's not all gone already."

Morgana tore her attention away from Arthur to cast a frown in Gwaine's direction. "Charming as ever, I see. Still taking advantage of women's hearts I take it?"

"Still making it your mission to crush every man you meet under your heel I take it?" Gwaine mimicked, matching Morgana's condescending tone perfectly. He sidled up next to her, hopping up onto the edge of the table. "And it's not taking advantage if they know what they're getting into. But I can understand if you're jealous."

"Jealous?" Morgana snorted, taking a sip of her coffee. "Of what exactly? The trite filth that spews out of your mouth that somehow manages to get the overly intoxicated to spread their legs wide open for you?"

Arthur choked on a piece of bacon. Despite the glamorous way his sister carried herself, he had almost forgotten she still had one of the dirtiest mouths ever. "What the _hell_ , Morgana?"

Gwaine just took it in stride, throwing his head back with a guffaw. "Not exactly," he said, deftly plucking the coffee cup out of her hands. He downed the entire thing before she could protest, then leaned in close. "But it does involve my mouth, if you're ever interested."

Instead of showing repulsion, Morgana just smirked, her eyes glinting dangerously. Her demeanor changed rapidly, and as she pulled Gwaine closer using the collar of his shirt, she practically purred. "Hrm, really? You know, now that I think about it...maybe..."

"Yeah?" Gwaine licked his lips, oblivious to the fact that he was the prey trapped in a predator's trap. "Maybe you realized how much fun we could have together, eh?"

"Or maybe it's that you have a snowball's chance in hell." Without warning, Morgana gave a sharp pull on the shirt fabric, casually stepping out of the way as Gwaine lost his balance and fell off the table. Cursing loudly, he rolled about the wooden floor, holding a hand over his nose to check if it was bleeding.

"One day, Morgana," he said, actually laughing at the clever maneuver despite being tricked, "one day you'll no longer be able to resist my many charms, and you'll finally know what you've been missing out on."

"Perish the thought." Morgana rolled her eyes, but still offered a hand to help him off the floor, her nails "accidentally" scraping against his skin as a warning. One Gwaine would probably ignore, as he always did whenever the two of them engaged in their psuedo-flirting sessions.

"If you two are finished," Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, not knowing whether to chuckle or groan at their disturbing type of banter, "I want to have a brief meeting about the plan for the day, _before_ any other guests show up. "

After making sure he had everyone's attention (including Lance and Gwen, who had finally stopped making lovey-dovey eyes at each other for the time being), he addressed the assembled group. "Right, so Lance, you're back to researching the different tourist areas. Take Gwen with you, and see how the town would function as a--" He almost slipped and said "honeymoon spot", but caught himself just in time, "--romantic getaway. Gwaine, once you stop being hung over, you're back to reviewing restaurants. Make notes of which ones you would like to see; we might bring in an in-house restaurant of our own. Percy's going with you to keep you out of trouble, though I shudder for any chef that has to provide enough food to feed the two of you. Leon, you're with Morgana and myself; we're going to be looking at the properties that I--"

Arthur stopped mid-sentence as a horrifying realization dawned over him. The printouts of the different real estate properties he wanted to view were still in his laptop bag.

Which he had left behind in his haste to leave Merlin's shop.

***

"This is starting to become something of a habit of yours."

Still caught between the hazy fog that separated sleep from consciousness, Merlin was sluggish in his response. Slowly uprighting himself from his awkward position on the floor, he idly rubbed at the imprint leaning against a chair leg left on his cheek. "...Uncle Gaius? Wha--"

It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on his head as the events of the night before flooded the forefront of his mind. He blinked repeatedly as he scanned the room, already aware of what he would discover: Arthur gone, stolen away in the earlier hours of morning without saying a word.

Snatches of what he originally thought to be just simple dreams flashed in front of him. Of how he heard Arthur shifting around to leave, but couldn't will his exhausted body to move in protest or even say anything. But what he would have said exactly? That he didn't want Arthur to leave after they finally managed to stop sniping at each other? That he remembered Arthur's fingers intertwining with the strands of his hair, and oh god, Merlin had actually kind of liked it?

Merlin felt his cheeks flush at the memory. "Arthur, that is... He... I mean..."

Gaius sighed, adjusting the bag from the local bakery he held in his arms. "I'm sure you have a wonderful explanation for everything, Merlin, _including_ why the front door was unlocked when I arrived. But unless it's urgent, I suggest we discuss it over breakfast."

The mouth-watering aroma of fresh danishes emanated from the bundle in Gaius's grasp, quickly making Merlin's decision for him.

"...Aithusa got out again," Merlin explained after they had sat down to eat at the table in the back room. He had already polished off two danishes and was working on a third, sending a look of apology for the crumbs that went flying everywhere as he spoke, "and Arthur must have found him and saved him... I don't know why I didn't make the connection from my vision before."

Gaius glanced down at Aithusa, who was eagerly lapping a bowl of cream, showing no signs of trauma from the previous day's events. "I always had a feeling that one would be trouble, considering his pedigree." He sipped at his tea, that awful herbal concoction that Merlin could never drink himself. "Then what happened?"

"...Um." This was the part that Merlin was dreading the most, knowing whatever answer he gave was going to be met with scrutiny. "I...I might have used my magic a bit?"

The infamous eyebrow of Gaius's shot straight up. "Define 'a bit', Merlin."

Merlin pushed away the remains of his breakfast, his appetite gone now that the gravity of the situation caught up to him. "...I accidentally killed a dog. It was about to attack Arthur, and then it lunged at me, and I just..." He trailed off, sinking down in his chair to bury his head in his folded arms.

"I know you're upset, Merlin, but it sounds like you did what you had to in order to defend yourself. Who knows what would have happened if you weren't there?" Gaius punctuated his words with a comforting pat to Merlin's head, then paused. "...Arthur didn't see you use magic, did he?"

Merlin sat up in his chair, running a hand through his hair nervously. "...I don't know. It was dark, and I said I just moved faster than people realized, but I don't know if he bought it. But..."

"'But'?" Gaius prodded, his lips pressing into a terse line. "Merlin, don't tell me there's more."

"...I might have healed Arthur's wounds?" At the incredulous look on Gauis's face, Merlin added, "Not all the way! Just enough so he wouldn't be in so much pain. I felt so guilty, and because I couldn't help the dog, I thought... Maybe..."

"You never cease to amaze me." It was obvious Gaius didn't approve of Merlin taking risks that could expose his magic. But after Merlin wilted underneath his scrutinizing frown, Gaius’s demeanor softened, and he sighed. "I understand your concern, but I do wish you would be more careful. Not everyone is understanding of your gifts."

The same lecture had been given to Merlin all his life, that he had to keep his magic a secret. That fortune-telling was one thing, but full-on demonstrations were bound to panic the masses, or--as Will so helpfully supplied--get Merlin locked up in a government testing facility hidden away somewhere. "I know, Uncle Gaius."

Seemingly appeased by Merlin's answer, Gaius hummed thoughtfully. "That being said, I think your mother might have a point in you working too hard, especially if this situation with Arthur continues to be such a daunting task for you. I want you to take the rest of week off from the shop. Though now that I know you do have some skill with the healing arts, I'm going to pull some texts for you to read on the subject."

"Great," Merlin said, grinning as he feigned a dramatic eye-roll. "More homework."

He really couldn't find it in himself to be bothered by the assignment though; he knew it was just his uncle's way of punishing him for being too reckless with his powers. Apparently Merlin was supposed to use his magic to help Arthur, but not use it so Arthur (or anyone else for that matter) found out the truth. It was more than confusing.

The faint sound of claws scratching at something caught his attention, and he groaned as he stood up and headed towards the shop's waiting room. No matter how many cat-scratchers Merlin bought, Aithusa always seemed to want to claw into furniture. "Aithusa, stop destroying the chairs--"

Merlin stopped mid-sentence when he realized Aithusa was actually pawing at the leather of what seemed to be a laptop bag. Shooing Aithusa away, Merlin picked it up, confused for a split second before he remembered how Arthur had such a bag last night. While he knew it was wrong, curiosity overtook him as he opened the bag.

Well, if the deep gouges on the side of the bag wasn't enough a hint, the giant crack on the laptop screen was; the laptop was ruined, no doubt thanks to last night's scuffle. A fresh wave of guilt washed over him, and although his magic and electronics never really got along (they tended to be too artificial and man-made for his magic to commune with properly), he wondered he could do anything to fix it.

Gaius's words about being careful rang out in his ears, and Merlin drew his hand back, feeling it buzzing with energy. What if Arthur knew the laptop was broken? How would Merlin be able to explain if he did use his magic to fix it, or accidentally make it worse?

Was it possible that Arthur already suspected him? It would explain why he had ran off without saying anything. Either he had been too freaked out to be around Merlin a second longer, or worse, went off to tell off the authorities like he had threatened after all.

A feeling of dread hung over Merlin, and he tried not to overreact as he rapidly shoved the laptop back in the bag. The scrunching of papers made him pull it back out, as well as the printouts he had accidentally folded. He tried to spread them out as evenly as he could in an attempt to get out all the wrinkles, but then their subject matter caught his focus.

Real estate listings. Not only that, but real estate listings for commercial properties in Ealdor. Merlin frowned as he read the notes in what he presumed to be Arthur's handwriting, filled with jargon he didn't quite understand.

Why was Arthur looking at property when he was supposedly researching for a vacation guide on behalf of his father's company?

"Merlin?" Gaius called from the other room. "Are you done eating?"

"What? Oh, yeah," Merlin called back absentmindedly as he placed the papers back next to the laptop, determining he had enough questions and not enough answers. "I'll see you later, okay? I...I have to go do something."

If Gaius responded, Merlin didn't hear, too lost in his own thoughts as he slipped his shoes on. Tugging the bag's fraying strap over his shoulder, he opened the front door of the shop--and walked smack dab into Arthur.

Merlin just stared in awkward silence; sure, he had been planning on returning the bag to Arthur, but he never expected Arthur to actually return to the shop of his own volition. "Um, hi."

For some reason, Arthur looked just as surprised to find Merlin standing there, despite the fact they were in front of the shop. "...Merlin, I wanted to talk to you about--is that my bag?"

"What?" Merlin looked down at his side, almost forgetting his reason for seeking Arthur out. Well, one of them at least. "Oh! I was just about to find you and return it. Try to find you, I mean."

As he handed the bag over, the question about the printouts was on his lips, but Merlin suddenly couldn't bring himself to ask it. He didn't want to break the shaky truce that had formed over the fact that he had been snooping.

"What brings you here anyways?" he asked, immediately regretting the stupidity of the question. Obviously Arthur had come for his laptop and his papers, whatever they were for.

But Arthur didn't even spare them a second glance, his blue eyes instead focused completely on Merlin, assessing him quietly. "Look, about this morning--"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but maybe you two can have have this conversation inside, away from this horrid heat?"

Merlin blinked, finally noticing that Arthur wasn't alone. The man behind Arthur was nearly two feet taller than him, and could have probably snapped Merlin like a twig if he was so inclined. Not only that, but the woman who had spoken up was the exact same one he had from his vision. It was a bit unnerving to see her in real life, so it took Merlin a second to react. "Sorry!" he said, louder than he intended, stepping out of the way. "Come in and sit down if you want."

Hearing the bell on the door, Gaius came from the back room, shooting a questioning look in Merlin's direction. Merlin shrugged helplessly in return. "Uncle Gaius, you remember Arthur, right?"

Arthur nodded in greeting before gesturing to his companions. "This is my sister, Morgana, and Percy."

Morgana gave a demure wave as she lounged in one of the chairs. The man called Percy chose to stand, a quiet presence that filled the room without being overbearing.

"I'll get some refreshments then," Gaius said before returning to the back. Merlin winced; Gaius's idea of refreshments usually included tea and those hard seaweed crackers.

"So, Merlin, was it?" Morgana glanced around, the faint gleam in her eyes revealing her interest. "What exactly is it that you do here?"

Merlin scratched the back of his neck. Usually he had no qualms over informing people about his profession. He had grown used to the varied responses over the years. But he suddenly felt nervous with Arthur standing right there, listening to every word.

"He's a psychic." Arthur responded before Merlin had a chance. "A damn good one, if you believe that sort of thing."

Morgana snorted, though it seemed to be directed more towards Arthur than the subject of his words. "Which you don't, of course."

"No, but Lance and Gwaine do," Arthur said, meeting Merlin's gaze solemnly, as if he was trying to communicate more with his words than what he let on. "And that's good enough for me, I guess."

In a sort of roundabout way, Arthur had just given a compliment, and Merlin felt himself flush, a small smile tugging on his lips. Maybe Arthur didn't believe in his abilities just yet, but maybe there was hope he’d come around.

"Besides," Arthur added, turning back towards Morgana, "Merlin here pretty much convinced Lance to finally propose to Gwen, so that has to count for something."

After a pause, Arthur drew out his wallet, pulling out an earmarked set of bills. "By the way, Merlin, he wanted me to give you this."

Merlin stared at the money thrust at him, knowing exactly what it meant. "But this is--"

"It's for Gwaine's reading too," Arthur said calmly, shoving the money in Merlin's hand. "They wanted to apologize for taking so long to get it to you."

It was the closest thing to an apology from Arthur that Merlin was going to get. He swallowed deeply and nodded, knowing payment for Arthur's reading was included in the amount as well. "Let me go get their receipts then."

"Lance I understand, but _Gwaine_?" Morgana's voice dripped with undeniable disdain. "What would he care about enough to get a psychic reading, besides copious amounts of alcohol and willing people with loose morals?"

That made Merlin drop the money in surprise, bills flying everywhere. From the reading he had given Gwaine, he had thought the two of them were romantically involved. "You're not..." he blurted out, "I mean... I thought you and Gwaine..."

Morgana's eyes instantly narrowed, and Merlin felt a shiver run up his spine. Arthur could be fearsome when he was upset, but Morgana was downright terrifying.

"I hope you're not trying to insinuate that I have any involvement with that...man." She spat the words out, as if the very thought left a bad taste in her mouth.

"No ma'am." Merlin knew to take the option out when he was offered one, and just hoped it meant he would be spared from Morgana's wrath. Arthur was looking at him strangely, almost if he wanted to press the subject further.

Apparently hearing Merlin's mental plea for help getting out of the predicament, Arthur cleared his throat. "Thank your uncle for us, but we probably should get going. Go on ahead you two, I'll be out in a moment."

Percy nodded before headed out the door, but Morgana didn't move right away, darting calculated looks between Arthur and Merlin. Arthur sighed. "I mean it, Morgana."

An understanding smirk spread across Morgana's features, and she stood up, making a beeline straight for Merlin. "It was nice to meet you, Merlin," she said, kissing both of his cheeks. In his ear, she whispered, "I hope we see you around soon."

"Um...sure?" Merlin didn't know how else to respond to that. But apparently it was the right answer, because Morgana gave him a wink before leaving the shop. But not before calling out, "Don't be too long, Arthur. Or poor Percy and I'll leave without you."

"...Your sister kind of scares me," Merlin mumbled once Morgana was safely out of earshot.

Instead of being insulted, Arthur let out the same rich laughter from last night. "You should try living with her some time."

As scary as Morgana was, being left alone with Arthur unhinged Merlin even worse. Feeling the urge to say something, he stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. "So...how are your injuries?" Argh, he just seemed to be full of stupid questions today; why would he purposely open up _that_ can of worms?

"Better," Arthur said, looking down at his arms, as if to confirm his statement. "Much better, actually. If I didn't know better, I might believe you actually knew what you were doing."

There was nothing to suggest Arthur considered his healing anything out of the ordinary, but Merlin was still cautious. "My uncle did teach me everything he knows," he chuckled awkwardly, his words not far from the truth.

"Come with us."

The abrupt subject change threw Merlin off. "Excuse me?"

"Come with us, today. If your offer still stands, that is." Arthur ran a hand through his hair, almost sheepishly. "I shouldn't have left this morning without thanking you again for...helping me out. And I've been thinking about what you said last night, and I might have misjudged you, and for that... Well, I'm sorry."

"Yeah."

Arthur snapped his head up, frowning in confusion. "'Yeah'?"

"Yeah," Merlin repeated, his cheeks feeling like they were about to crack under the sheer magnitude of his smile, "Yeah, I'll come with you."


	2. Chapter 2

Maybe Gwaine had been right to worry about the end of the world. Because not only had Arthur started to enjoy his time away from the office as the week progressed, he had enjoyed it in _Ealdor_ of all places. And it was mostly in part thanks to Merlin.

The two of them still argued constantly, but it had transformed into light-hearted banter rather than anything serious. Merlin poked fun at Arthur's preference for classical music ("The 1800s called. They want their musical taste back." "That doesn't even make sense, _Mer_ lin. Also, it's called 'classical' for a reason."), and in turn, Arthur ridiculed Merlin's sense of fashion ("What's wrong with my clothes?" "You look like you fell into the discount bin at a secondhand store."). Those types of conversations tended to dissolve into ridiculous name-calling that left Arthur shaking his head in bemusement. (Honestly, what the hell was a "dollophead" supposed to be anyways?)

Despite their differences, Arthur found himself appreciating Merlin's presence more and more. It wasn't just that Merlin provided an insider's look to Ealdor (showing off all the restaurants, shops, and locations usually only the locals knew about), but the little things about the man himself. He laughed at the jokes Merlin made, even the really corny ones that made him groan. He took secret delight in watching how wide-eyed and skittish Merlin got around Morgana, instinctively cowering behind Arthur because he was slightly scared of her after their last meeting. The one time Merlin offered to join Arthur on his morning jog, he teased him for being too slow, but Arthur still ended up slowing his pace so Merlin could keep up.

Once he actually got to know Merlin, Arthur discovered how great of a listener he was, and somehow felt compelled to tell Merlin things he rarely discussed with anyone else. When they were alone (or at least out of earshot of the rest of Arthur's group), Arthur would talk about various things in his life. How he always felt like he had to prove himself to get his father to notice him, how it always felt like Uther unconsciously blamed his son for his wife's death.

"It was a risky pregnancy, and they both knew it," He had explained as they strode across the sandy dunes, two lone figures on the beach; Arthur hadn’t been able to convince anyone else to wake up at the ungodly hour, not even Leon. "And while my father already had Morgana from a previous marriage, he wanted a son so badly. I guess he didn't know how much he was willing to give up to have it happen."

Instead of the melodramatic pity he always received whenever someone learned the circumstances of Arthur's birth, Merlin had simply said, "I'm sorry," those two words carrying more meaning than any overblown apology.

Arthur tried to broach the topic of Merlin's own father in return, slightly curious that there was no sign of the man. Hunith herself had made no mention of a husband, even though The Dragon’s Call business cards listed “Balinor and Hunith Emrys” as the proprietors. But when Arthur tried to bring it up, the same reverent sadness from before filled Merlin's gaze, and the subject was swiftly dropped. Arthur was above prodding at emotional wounds, no matter how fresh or deep they ran.

It seemed the location of his father’s whereabouts wasn't the only thing Merlin wasn't forward about. While they never discussed the reading again, Arthur could see it weighed heavily on Merlin's mind. Maybe it was because of Arthur's original reaction that Merlin didn't mention it any more, and for that, Arthur was kind of grateful.

Merlin was apparently right to be worried though.

The rest of the week passed by without a major hitch until Friday night. Arthur and his traveling companions were being lead to a restaurant that Merlin swore by--"Great, now I know not to order anything, unless I _want_ to have my stomach pumped later," Arthur joked--when a car suddenly swerved out of traffic and popped up on the curb of the sidewalk. Someone jerked sharply on Arthur's shirt collar, and as he fell backwards a couple feet onto the pavement, a blast of air hit his face as the vehicle’s tire rolled over the very spot where he had been seconds before.

Immediately Arthur scrambled to his feet, cursing loudly at the disappearing headlights; the driver hadn't even stopped to check if anyone was hurt or even to apologize before speeding off. "Learn to fucking drive, you asshole!"

"Arthur, are you okay?" Leon was instantly at his side, unable to fully shake his bodyguard tendencies, even when he was supposed to be pretending he was just another one of Arthur's friends. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"I'm fine," Arthur said, rolling his shoulders reflexively. He was a bit sore, but relatively unharmed. "Percy could have been gentler when he was grabbing me though."

Leon hesitated before shaking his head. "It wasn't Percy, or myself. I'm sorry, we weren't able to move fast enough."

"Then who--"

That's when Arthur noticed everyone had turned their focus to Merlin, who was sprawled out on the ground, presumably after he had yanked Arthur out of harm's way. As Percy bent down to offer Merlin a hand up, Arthur could tell how he was desperately trying to hide his trembling.

Their gazes locked, and without a single word exchanged between them, Arthur knew.

Even if Arthur still doubted in the actual existence of psychics, by then he was starting to realize that Merlin really did believe in what he predicted. That he thought Arthur's life was in danger, and he almost seemed determined to prevent anything from happening. A part of Arthur scoffed; psychic prediction or not, he didn't need anyone's protection, least of all Merlin's. But not only was time proving that wasn't the case (the near collision with the car now being the third instance where Merlin rescued him in just the past few days), the fact that Merlin was trying to help Arthur from the beginning spoke volumes about his character. If their roles were switched, Arthur didn't think he would assist someone who belittled him as much as he had Merlin.

"You're like some kind of damn hero, Merlin," Gwaine said, wrapping a congratulatory arm around Merlin's shoulder like it belonged there. "I say we all get drinks to celebrate. Arthur's buying, of course."

It then became apparent how seamlessly Merlin had slipped into Arthur's circle of friends without Arthur realizing it. Maybe it should have bothered him how close-knit they had all grown already; technically, Merlin was still an outsider, a relative of a company competitor. But it was hard to distance oneself from a person like Merlin, someone who was eager to be friends with everybody. Even Arthur.

Arthur watched as Gwaine tugged Merlin into the restaurant, the two of them jostling each other in their sides and laughing. They seemed to share the same quirky sense of humor, and Gwaine was determined to convince Merlin to use his so-called abilities for personal gain. The most recent idea involved predicting winning lottery numbers or something, with Merlin apologetically insisting over and over that it didn't work like that while Gwaine continuously pouted and pleaded.

Lance was as cordial with Merlin as always, being respectful towards him from the first moment they met. But as he drew chairs out from their assigned table for both Gwen and Merlin, Arthur suspected it was more than just Lance's usual friendliness towards others in play. His suspicion was partly due to snatches of recent conversation he heard between the two of them.

Earlier that week, Morgana had declared that they were all going shopping for the whole day, and Arthur surprised even himself when he agreed. As long as he wasn't forced to carry Morgana's bags (like whenever he had the misfortune of being dragged to the mall with her), Arthur didn't mind waiting outside the boardwalk shops as Morgana and Gwen flitted about while deciding on various souvenirs.

He was idly spinning a postcard rack in means of keeping himself occupied when he noticed Lance and Merlin standing off to the side. Their voices were hushed, their heads lowered except when they would raise them every now and then to glance in Gwen's direction. Arthur moved closer as Merlin fumbled for a scrap of piece of paper, scribbling something on it before handing it over to Lance.

" _...I don't know if they'll have what you're looking for_ ," Merlin had said, giving Lance an encouraging smile. " _But they craft everything by hand, so each piece is unique. Ask for Freya; she's a friend of mine and probably will be able to help you find something._ "

" _Thank you, Merlin._ " Lance breathed a sigh of relief, holding the piece of paper as if it was precious material. " _I just hope you were right._ "

Merlin shook his head, grinning madly. " _I don't know why you keep doubting yourself when everyone else can see how much you two mean to each other. I haven't known you that long, but I can tell Gwen is a lucky woman._ "

Later that same evening in the privacy of their room, Arthur had caught Lance fidgeting with what was unmistakably a jeweler's box. Lance had tried to hide it, flustered, but Arthur clapped a hand on his back and offered sincere congratulations. Even now, Arthur saw how Lance would glance at Gwen, his one hand intertwined with hers as the other grasped at something in his pocket. If the two didn't get engaged that very night, Arthur had a feeling the entire group would wind up proposing to Gwen on Lance's behalf.

Heading to the bar to order a round of drinks (though he had a feeling he would end up paying for everyone's meals as well), Arthur wasn't expecting Morgana to join him. Even she had grown fond of Merlin, finding it endearing how he would shy away from her, and often she would make comments of a suggestive nature just to see Merlin blush.

She ordered a Cosmopolitan, the glint in her eyes hinting what would happen if the bartender didn't make it absolute perfection. While she waited for her drink, she grabbed Arthur's forearm, preventing him from going back to the table right away. "Are you sure you're okay, Arthur? That's the third time something like that has happened, isn't it?"

Morgana was the only one besides Arthur and Merlin who knew the full details of what had happened; Arthur had finally sat down and told her everything, including Merlin's prediction and how he had inexplicably been there to rescue Arthur every time there had been a problem.

Now Arthur wondered if that had been a mistake; he thought of his sister as one of the most level-headed people he knew, but forgot that she considered herself to be highly spiritual. So instead of logically agreeing that Merlin's prediction was nothing to be too concerned over, she ate the idea up and would've pestered Merlin for more details if Arthur hadn't made her swear she wouldn't.

"I'm fine, Morgana. It was just an accident."

"How can you be so sure?" Morgana asked, scanning the room for possible eavesdroppers before she leaned in. "...You do know Cenred is interested in expanding to this area as well?"

Arthur sighed into his beer. "Father told me, but he's way too paranoid if he thinks Cenred would even take a financial gamble on Ealdor. You haven't been listening to the rumors too, have you?"

"Please, Arthur, I work in PR; my job is listening to rumors." Morgana twirled a strand of her dark hair around her finger, pensive. "Just... What if they’re actually true this time?"

He almost snorted at the thought, but something in Morgana's expression stopped him. "...Morgana, do you know something I don't?"

After a moment of silence that lasted way too long for Arthur's liking, Morgana shook her head. "No, nothing. We've just all heard the horror stories about how Cenred operates; it's like the man walked out of a horribly cliche mob movie. Who's to say that he hasn't been involved somehow with all your incidents so far?"

"Calm down, Morgana," Arthur said, exasperation seeping into his tone. He could only handle so much far-fetched speculation. "I think you're overreacting a little."

"Shut up and just listen instead of treating me like an hysterical child," Morgana hissed, the green in her eyes flashing venomously. "I'm _worried_ about you...and Merlin."

Arthur blinked, then glanced over Morgana's shoulder in the direction of their table. Leon was reaching over to ruffle at Merlin's hair playfully, no doubt praising him for his quick actions earlier. Percy then leaned over and said something that caused the whole table to erupt into howls of laughter, Merlin holding his sides and crying tears of mirth along with the rest of them. Arthur caught himself smiling softly at the scene before turning his attention back to Morgana. "What, you think Merlin is in danger too?"

"In more ways than one."

Arthur frowned; he hated when people choose to speak in riddles instead of getting straight to the point. "What the hell does that mean?"

Morgana rolled her eyes with a loud sigh. "What it means is, what are you going to do when we have to leave in the next few days? Does he even know who you really are yet?"

"Of course not." As far as Arthur was concerned, Merlin only knew him as Arthur Debois, a writer and researcher of vacationing guides. "But I don't see how that has to do anything."

"For God's sake Arthur, can you not be so pig-headed for once in your life?" Morgana snapped, prodding him squarely in the chest. "You _like_ him. Admit it."

Yeah, Arthur actually did, and it scared the hell out of him on how his feelings about Merlin could change so drastically. But it seemed having someone save your life multiple times could have a certain effect on you, even if Arthur was loathed to admit it.

"It doesn't matter if I do or not, I'll forget about him once this is all over," Arthur said through gritted teeth, grabbing the round of drinks before the others could question the delay. "This is just business."

In the end, Arthur wasn't sure who he was trying to convince more: Morgana, or himself.

***

Merlin heaved a sigh of relief as soon as he was able to flop down into the comfort of his bed. When he had agreed to be an unofficial tour guide for Arthur and the rest of his friends, Merlin had no idea how tiring the position would be.

At least it wasn't all just work, he mentally amended with a soft smile, curling up with his pillow; he actually had fun too. The seemingly impossible had happened in the expanse of one week: not only had Arthur become bearable to be around, Merlin could even say that some sort of fledgling friendship had formed between them.

It wasn't just with Arthur either. His friends Lance and Gwaine had both done a double-take the first time Arthur showed up with Merlin in tow, but accepted Merlin's presence with relative ease. In fact, Gwaine had immediately treated Merlin as if they had been close for years. Merlin was hard-pressed not to like Gwaine's easygoing temperament, and Gwaine's animated recounting of personal antics over the years never failed to leave Merlin in stitches.

As for Lance, Merlin had first liked him simply on the principle that he was the only one out of the three men who took Merlin's psychic reading seriously. At the time, Gwaine had thought it was some sort of joke, Arthur some sort of trick, but Lance had been sincerely interested in what Merlin had to say.

But it wasn't just that which earned Merlin's admiration; Lance was fiercely loyal and kind to everyone, often playing the calm mediator amongst his friends when the role was needed. It was easy to see why he and Gwen were so perfect together; she was sweet, innocent, and caring, with a tendency to stammer when nervous that Merlin found endearing from the moment he met her.

That's why Merlin found it so hard to believe that Gwen could be so close to someone like Morgana, but the two women seemed to balance each other out. If Gwen was yang, then Morgana was definitely yin, the polar opposite personality-wise. It wasn't that she was mean or cruel per se, but ever since that one slip-up suggesting she and Gwaine were romantically involved, Merlin had made sure not to get on her bad side. She seemed to sense this and took some sick delight in teasing him, making off-hand and off-color comments until he blushed. Then she would just laugh and coo over how precious he was, which of course would make Merlin’s cheeks even redder.

At first, Percival's sheer size had made him come off as intimidating; he could probably snap Merlin like a twig without a breaking a sweat. But underneath the tough exterior was a man who was quiet and earnest, biding his time for when his few words would fit the moment. Leon was the more conversational of the two, usually serious with his tone but still able to joke around every now and then. After Merlin had grabbed Arthur out of way of the car, he had earned both of their respect, and they had spent the rest of the night ruffling his hair and asking him if he'd be interested in another job. But when he pressed for more details about it, they just laughed and congratulated him again for his quick thinking.

While Merlin had friends like Will and a few other acquaintances while growing up, he had never been popular in school. If he wasn't getting harassed for his looks, people were avoiding him, with whispers of "that weird psychic kid" following him in the halls. So it was more than nice to hang out with a circle of new friends, even if he knew it wouldn't last that much longer.

That was the hardest part to accept; that eventually Arthur and the others would leave, and Merlin would probably never see them again. Some of them he wouldn't mind if they didn't keep in touch (like Morgana), but others were already painful to think about, despite their short time together.

But most excruciating of all was the thought of Arthur eventually going away.

The truth was, Merlin knew it wasn't just his magic that was attracted to Arthur any more. Sure, Arthur was an ass sometimes, and he could still be condescending as hell when it came to topics they disagreed on. But he was slowly starting to see the positive aspects of Arthur too.

It was more than just how Arthur had protected Aithusa, even it at the cost of his safety and well-being. It was also how Arthur defended his friends and looked out for them. How when he talked about his father and their differences, his respect for the man still shone through his voice. How he treated Merlin's mother, always greeting Hunith when he saw her with a genuine smile and asking how her day was going.

How when Lance publicly offered to give back the money had been forced to refund, Arthur had just coughed awkwardly and said he already taken care of it. Merlin had his suspicions before, but to hear it confirmed that Arthur had paid the full amount out of his own pocket made Merlin stare in disbelief, mouth agape and cheeks flushed.

It was around then that Merlin knew, as much as he tried to resist, he was falling for Arthur. Fast and _hard_.

Just as he was about to fall asleep, thoughts of Arthur swirling on his mind, Merlin was abruptly jerked awake by the phone ringing. For a moment, he debated just ignoring it, but was afraid the sound would wake up Gaius. And as much as he hated disrupted sleep, he would rather deal with that than disrupted sleep and a cantankerous uncle. Blindly reaching for the phone, he cradled it in the small of his shoulder and mumbled, "...’lo?"

"I'm going to fucking kill him."

One day, Merlin would get Will to embrace the finer art of proper greetings. "...Will? What time is it?" Merlin paused, peering through the darkness of his room to focus on his alarm clock. He groaned when he saw the actual time. "...It's almost midnight, couldn't this have waited until later? Arthur will probably want me to go running with him again, even though I'm shit at it, and he always says--"

"Fuck Em, will you just shut up and listen to me for a second, yeah?" Will snapped. "Who do you think I'm talking about?!"

Merlin blinked, then frowned. He thought he had already established before he didn't want Arthur dead, and that was even before he actually started to like him. Merlin never pegged Will to be the jealous type, but maybe he was upset about all the time Merlin was spending with Arthur. "Look, I know I said Arthur was an ass before, and I guess he still kind of he is, but he's really not that bad. Once you get to know him, I mean."

"That's the whole point isn't it? You don't know him, none of us do." There was background noise and talking on Will's end for a few seconds, and when Will spoke again, his voice was lowered like he didn't want anyone to overhear. "Turns out your fucking Blondie has been lying to us the whole time."

"First off, not _my_ Blondie," Merlin said, even if he secretly wished for the opposite to be true. "Second, what are you talking about?"

"Well, look, I'm down at the bar, and--"

"Will, it's Sunday night."

"Not all of us can have off Friday and Saturday nights, alright?" Will huffed. "Anyways, I'm down at the bar, and there's this guy here that says he's visiting for the weekend. I haven't seen him around before, and I ask him where he's staying, because he's obviously not staying with us. I don't think it would be his thing actually, considering he looks like he's from a biker gang, with all these fucking snake tattoos on his arms. They're fucking sick, yeah? I think I even saw one eating its own tail."

Merlin sighed, burying back under the warmth of his covers. "Sorry, but what does this have to do with Arthur?"

It almost as if he could hear Will’s eye-roll over the line."I'm getting to that, hold on! So yeah the guy actually seemed cool enough, despite the snake thing, and was like, 'Oh, you work at the bed and breakfast, huh? How do you like it there? You worried about the new hotel they're looking in bringing in here taking all your business?"

"...What?!" Merlin sat up straight in bed, now giving Will his full attention. "What new hotel?"

Will snorted derisively. "That's what I said, yeah? And he was like, 'Well, I heard Pendragon Suites was looking to open a chain here, and the CEO's son was here himself to scout out a location.'"

Merlin's mouth went dry. It couldn't be... It couldn't be possible...could it? "Who...who is it?"

"...Seriously, Em?" Will sighed, cursing under his breath. "Who the fuck do you think it is? It's Arthur--he's not Arthur Debois or whatever fucking name he's been using, but Arthur _Fucking_ Pendragon."

As much as Merlin wanted to deny the truth, all the pieces of the puzzle suddenly clicked together. Arthur's reluctance about discussing the nature of his business in Ealdor during his reading. How whenever Merlin brought up the tour guide Arthur was supposed to be writing, Arthur looked uncomfortable and quickly changed the subject. The real estate listings Merlin had found in Arthur's laptop bag, with notes in the margins that Merlin now realized probably had to do with hotel development.

He had been a complete blindsided fool.

"Em, you still there?"

"Yeah," he said shakily, wiping his eyes with the heels of his palms. "Yeah, I'm still here. Are you sure it's him?"

Will must have sensed Merlin's distress, because he lowered his voice into calm tones as he answered, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure. The guy claims he used to work for them, so he recognized Arthur when was around town. But I'll find out more, okay? Don't tell anyone else just yet."

Merlin made a choked noise of agreement before clearing his throat. "Yeah, okay. I have to go now though. Talk to you later, Will."

He didn't wait for a response before hanging up the phone, clenching the receiver in his hands. While the evidence was right in front of him, he wanted to make absolutely sure what Will said was right. He needed to see physical proof of who Arthur really was.

After a moment of hesitation, he flipped on the lamp beside his bed, wincing a little as the bright light hit his eyes. Aithusa looked up from his spot at the end of Merlin's bed, watching curiously as Merlin made his way to his desk.

The hum of Merlin's computer filled the room as soon as he turned it on. It was probably ancient by technology standards, but it could at least connect to the internet and give him the information that he needed.

At first he searched Pendragon Suites itself, scrolling past reviews while swallowing the urge to leave a few fake negative ones just out of misguided spite. He read a couple of business reports of the economic boom the hotel chain usually brought to an area, but had to stop after too many mentions of competitors being forced to close because of their proximity to a Pendragon Suites location. It was too easy to imagine his mother in a similar situation, and he had to close the window and start a new search.

This time he focused on Arthur himself, and Merlin's breath was taken away by the number of hits: apparently Arthur was more famous than he thought. There were articles about the "playboy son of a hotel tycoon", a description that Merlin thought didn't fit Arthur at all.

Then again, that was the whole point, wasn't it? That Merlin didn't know Arthur at all, that the Arthur he knew didn't match with the Arthur that stared back at him from the computer screen.

That the Arthur he knew, who felt the most comfortable in a pair of (admittedly designer) jeans and button-up shirt, didn't match the Arthur who dressed in sharp, professionally pressed Armani suits that probably cost more than what Merlin could make in a lifetime. That the Arthur he knew, who had a weakness for bacon he thought no one else knew about, didn't match the Arthur who apparently followed a "rigorous healthy, all-natural diet, created by the same five-star chefs who work for Pendragon Suites." That the Arthur he knew, who praised Hunith for running a business by herself, didn't match the Arthur whose company ruthlessly ran similar privately owned inns and hotels completely off the market.

A part of Merlin still wanted to give Arthur the benefit of the doubt, but he couldn't stop the amass of speculations rapidly forming in his head. Had this been part of Arthur's plan all along? To befriend someone who was not only a local, but had insider information on Pendragon Suites's only form of competition in Ealdor? How many times had Merlin complained how he was worried that the stress of running a successful bed and breakfast would eventually get to his mother? At the time, Arthur had listened carefully, nodding as if he understood Merlin's concern. But now Merlin just wondered if Arthur was just storing the knowledge for his own later use.

The thing was, it wasn't so much of who Arthur really was or that he had lied that bothered Merlin so much. Of course Merlin automatically felt like he had been used and betrayed, but the more he thought about it, it was the sincerity of the interactions he had with Arthur that he questioned the most.

Every time Arthur had given that bright smile, every time he had laughed at Merlin's jokes, every time Arthur gave him that look that said more than words ever could--was that all the real Arthur, or simply an act?

Merlin didn't know what to believe anymore, and trying to think about it made his eyes sting, head pound, and heart ache. Without even bothering to turn off his computer, he crashed back into bed and wrapped himself in a cocoon of blankets.

Even though he knew sleep would elude him for the rest of the night.

***

As soon as he was in the sanctuary of his room, Arthur plopped down on the bed and finally allowed himself to loosen the knot of his tie. The damn thing had been threatening to choke him all day. He wondered how he could go from wearing suits nearly 24/7 with no problem to cursing their existence. It had only been a little over a week since he last wore one, but for some reason it felt like forever, the charcoal gray material not nearly as comfortable as the jeans and shirt attire he had grown used to wearing while in Ealdor.

He should have been completely over the moon, celebrating with his friends for taking such a huge step forward. They had finally selected a potential property and submitted an iron-clad Letter of Intent to the seller. While there were still loose bits and ends for the lawyers to tie up (not to mention a mountain of paperwork Arthur wanted to review), it looked like Pendragon Suites would soon be the proud owner of a 19 acre plot of Ealdor land.

Even though this was his first business deal where he was placed in such a key position, Arthur was experienced enough in the field to know that this was only the beginning. Once they acquired the land, the company still had to jump through various hoops before they could even start construction: zoning regulations, hearings open to the public, hiring of architects and contractors alike. It would take months, maybe even a year before the Ealdor location would even open its doors, and Arthur couldn't wait for the day he could say he had a hand in making it all happen.

But for the majority of his day, his mind had been elsewhere, his body on autopilot as he signed document after document that basically said the same thing as the one before it, just with slightly different wording. It's why he brought back papers to look over; he had been unable to give them his full attention the first time around, not when his focus kept zeroing on the ticking clock on the wall of the meeting room.

His meeting had been scheduled at seven that morning, leaving him plenty of time to change after a beach run with Merlin at five. That had been the plan at least, but Arthur had nearly been late to the meeting because he had waited almost an hour for Merlin to show up at their usual starting point.

As soon as Arthur had replaced his cell phone last week--he had only been able survive a few days without one--he had asked for Merlin's number to program in. Morgana had teased him about the fact that Merlin was placed higher in Arthur's address book than she was, but he waved it off as just the names being listed alphabetically. Even if he had put a "1" in front of Merlin's name on purpose so it would be towards the top of the list.

When there had been no sign of Merlin, Arthur called multiple times with no answer, finally leaving a voice message: " _Merlin, where the hell are you? Don't tell me you chickened out on me. Five isn't that early, you wuss. Call me when you get this._ "

Arthur had to turn his cell off for the duration of the meeting, fully expecting a scathing response filled with Merlin's odd brand of cursing and insults. But even after the meeting finally finished at just a little before noon and he was free to return to his room, Arthur was surprised to find that he still had no new messages. More than that, he was actually disappointed; not only that Merlin hadn't bothered to call him back, but he had actually begun to look forward to hearing his voice.

Shit, what was wrong with him? He was supposed to be completing the last minute touches of the property purchase before leaving Ealdor; all the other aspects of construction could be handled back at the home office or in a future trip. He didn't have the time or energy to be infatuated with someone he had only known for a week.

Wait, "infatuated"? Arthur blinked, wondering why that term had popped into his head. After all, he and Merlin often argued over differing opinions, which was actually kind of refreshing to have someone stand up to Arthur once. And Merlin was a complete idiot who just happened to listen when people needed him to before dispensing really good advice. Not to mention that Merlin wasn't attractive at all, with the exception of his sharp cheekbones, brilliant blue eyes, ruffled black hair--

"Oh my God," Arthur said out loud to a thankfully empty room as it finally dawned on him: _he was infatuated with Merlin._

In fact, when he considered celebrating his success with friends, he had automatically included Merlin in his mind. But there was no way he could invite Merlin, not with the risk of the reasoning behind the celebration leaking out. But then again, Merlin would probably find out eventually; it was a miracle Arthur's identity had been kept a secret this long.

Funny when Arthur had first decided undercover in Ealdor, he had rationalized the move by saying it would be easier to observe without revealing the company's intent. That there was no need to ruffle the local feathers if Pendragon Suites decided to pass on the location in the end. He had thought it to be a brilliant strategic maneuver at the time, and was spurred on by the fact that Uther actually agreed to it. It didn't matter what Arthur personally thought of Ealdor, as long as he was able to make his father and his company proud.

But now Arthur just felt like the biggest coward in the world; he had lied to people, befriended them under false pretenses, and for what? So he would have to deal with any opposition from the beginning? He didn't even know if people would fight the arrival of a major hotel chain to their sleepy little beach town.

Would Merlin fight it? Would he have even given Arthur the time of day if he had known the truth from the beginning? Would he turn and look at Arthur in disgust, picketing with signs Arthur had seen before at other building sites but never really bothered to care about? Arthur had never met the people whose businesses floundered thanks to a Pendragon Suites takeover; they had all been faceless names to Arthur, with no blow to conscience.

Ealdor was different; every time he thought of the name, "The Dragon's Call", he didn't see just a printed name on crisp business card. He saw Hunith, giving him a motherly smile in the mornings after his run, informing him she made the bacon crispy, just the way he confessed in liking it. He saw the handyman Will, who apparently hated his guts (even though they had barely said two words to each other), but always seemed determined to keep the bed and breakfast running in tip-top shape with an admirable sense of dedication. He saw Gaius, Merlin's eccentric old uncle who would always show up at Sunday dinners, telling folktales about the town that one couldn't find in any published book.

He saw Merlin, talking about how proud he was of his mother for running everything on her own, yet how he was constantly worried about her--about her being too stressed, or spending too much money on guests' meals, of her being able to handle the increasing number of people visiting each year. Merlin's eyes had shone so passionately that Arthur wanted to swear right then and there he would do anything to keep Hunith and The Dragon's Call afloat.

Instead, he had probably signed its death warrant under the pretense of "just business".

That settled it; no more lies. Arthur would tell Merlin everything, on his own terms. And if Merlin didn't entirely despise him after he was done, maybe they could formulate an idea about what to do for Merlin's mother. That way, everyone could be happy, right?

It wasn't a fully fleshed out plan by any means (Arthur had no idea how to even approach Merlin with his confession), but at least it was a start. Leaping to his feet with a renewed sense of purpose, Arthur stripped out of the sweltering heat of his suit, throwing on his signature red t-shirt and jogging shorts. Maybe since Merlin missed their run this morning, Arthur could convince him to go for one this afternoon after they had lunch at Merlin's favorite restaurant (which actually turned out pretty decent).

The loud knock at the door disrupted his thoughts, and Arthur immediately rolled his eyes. Gwaine had misplaced his key three times now, and once had actually lost it completely, so there was no doubt in Arthur's mind it had happened yet again. As he opened the door, he rattled off the usual lecture."Gwaine, you just need to staple your key to your forehead already--"

"Is it true?"

Arthur blinked, surprised to find not Gwaine, but Merlin standing in the doorway. A smile automatically sprang to Arthur's face at Merlin's presence, but swiftly turned into a frown as he took in Merlin's haggard appearance. There were dark rings underneath Merlin’s eyes, and his lips were pressed together so tightly all the blood had drained from them.

“Merlin? Where the hell have you been?” Arthur said, opening the door wider as he ran his concerned glance over Merlin’s body. “Don’t just stand there, come in already.”

“Is it true?” Merlin repeated, making no move to enter the room, and Arthur noticed he was actually shaking with tension. It made Arthur angry to even wonder what the hell could have happened to make Merlin that distressed.

The answer came a second later, when Merlin raised his watery eyes to meet Arthur’s straight on. “Are you Arthur _Pendragon_?”

All Arthur’s former conviction of telling Merlin the truth deserted him, and his first instinct was to continue lying. But he couldn’t bring himself to do that either, so he did the next best thing: he stalled. “...What?”

“I already know the answer,” Merlin said, as if he could read Arthur’s inner thoughts. “But I wanted-- _needed_ \--to hear it from you.”

Arthur licked his lips, trying to moisten them before he could even begin to speak. Even if the whole situation had been ripped from his control, he still owed it to Merlin to tell the truth. “Yes, it’s true.”

All the strength in Merlin’s shoulders seemed to disappear, his body sagging as he exhaled one loud, shuddering breath of air.

“You’re Arthur Pendragon,” Merlin said, his gaze now firmly turned towards the carpet, “and you’re in Ealdor to expand your hotel company.”

It was a statement that time, not a question, but Arthur answered that one too. “Yes, that’s right. We hope to open a Pendragon Suites here within two years, if not sooner.”

“Why?”

Arthur just let his inner businessman handle that one. “Because of Ealdor’s rapid tourism rate boosting it to be a primary vacation spot, we wanted a stake in the market before--”

“No, not that,” Merlin interrupted, cutting Arthur off in mid-sentence. “I meant, why lie? Why pretend to be someone you’re not?”

“I--” Arthur started, but realized he didn’t really have anything to say. All his reasons for being undercover just sounded like cheap excuses now, and he could only offer, “It was a stupid idea, and I regret it.”

Other guest room doors opened down the hall, and Arthur panicked. He didn’t want to have this conversation with the possibility of gawking eavesdroppers. “Merlin, come in and let’s talk about this,” he said, gently grabbing Merlin’s elbow and tugging on it. “If we're too loud out here, someone will probably complain to management about the noise.”

“Don’t,” Merlin said, choking back a sob as he jerked away from Arthur’s grip. “Don’t act like you’re worried about causing problems for my mother. Just don’t.”

Fair enough, Arthur supposed he deserved that, but it still stung like a slap to the face. He held his hands up in placation, backing away to give Merlin his space. “...Merlin, just come in. _Please_.”

With a resigned sigh, Merlin stepped in the room, turning to close the door himself. He kept his hand on the knob, his back to Arthur, looking like he was ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. Neither of them said anything for the longest time, until Arthur finally broke the silence. “How did you find out?”

Merlin’s back stiffened. “Someone told me last night. But I couldn’t really believe it until I looked you up online, and then I had to talk to you in person.”

Arthur’s eyes widened. He first thought Merlin had figured it out on his own, but how many people knew of Arthur’s deception now? Once again he cursed his mistake; it was hard for a company to build a rapport with the people of the area if they knew one of the company’s representatives as a liar. “Merlin, who told you?”

“Even if I told you, does it really matter?” Merlin shook his head while leaning against the door. “ I should have known something was going on from how you acted whenever you talked about your business, or from those papers I found in your bag...”

“Wait, you went through my things?” Arthur was unable to keep his temper from flaring at the blatant invasion of privacy. "You went into my bag after I left it at your shop."

Merlin whirled around, staring at Arthur in disbelief. "It wasn't like that! I just--"

Before Merlin could finish, there was a small knock as the door swung open, Morgana standing on the other side. "Arthur, I need to talk to you--Merlin? What are you doing here?"

Keeping his gaze fixed on Merlin, Arthur growled, "Not now, Morgana."

"Actually, I was just going," Merlin mumbled, pushing past a bewildered Morgana and nearly stumbling into the hall.

"Merlin, wait!" Arthur would've chased after him, tried to explain, tried to apologize like he should have done in the first damn place. But it was too late; no doubt Merlin had literally ran away as quickly as he could.

"Mind telling me what the hell that was all about?" Morgana said, prodding Arthur roughly in the chest. "What did you say to him?"

Arthur clenched his fists into tight balls, fighting the urge to punch a hole in the hall to vent out his anger. He wasn't angry at Merlin, or even the person that told him. This was all Arthur's fault, and he was the only one to blame. "I fucked up, Morgana. He knows, and he hates me now."

Morgana sighed, her expression softening. "Oh Arthur, I tried to warn you something like this would happen, but I didn’t know you cared this strongly about him." She paused before she asked quietly, "What are you going to do now?"

"I'm going to finish the deal, and then leave Ealdor, just like I planned." Arthur said, his voice devoid of emotion. "What I need you to do is schedule a public press conference as soon as possible. We shouldn't hide our intentions any longer."

As soon as Morgana left to make calls, Arthur dug out the stack of papers from his laptop bag, determined to force himself to read through them all. A crinkle of plastic caught his attention, and reached into the corner of his bag to pull out a crushed fortune cookie. It took him a few seconds to realize it was the same one from the day Merlin had first saved him. It must have been caught in the recesses of the bag, forgotten.

Arthur ripped open the plastic sleeve on a whim, shaking out the cookie pieces into a nearby wastebasket before he could get to the fortune inside. He held out the thin slip of a paper, reading the printed words out loud: "...'You will be successful in both business and love.'"

The fortune was soon torn to shreds, and Arthur watched the bits float down to the ground with a rueful smile.

***

Merlin didn’t realized how much Arthur had already become a part of his life until Arthur was no longer there, leaving a gaping hole behind.

The last few days had been pure hell. Merlin tossed and turned instead of sleeping at night, and he was constantly plagued with self-doubt over whether or not he was doing the right thing. Every time he heard the bell on the shop door ring out, he would rush towards it like the proverbial Pavlov's dog, only to be hit with a conflicting mixture of disappointment and relief when he never saw Arthur standing there. It eventually didn’t become too much of a stretch to feign illness to get out of his shifts at the shop; Gaius would just take one look at haggard appearance and sigh before sending him back upstairs.

One time, Merlin had started to dial Arthur’s phone number, slamming the phone down before the first ring as his heart thumped erratically in his chest. He was scared to even visit his mother sometimes, his mind freezing up at the thought of accidentally running into Arthur at the bed and breakfast.

What really hurt was the fact that Arthur seemed to be avoiding Merlin just as much. It made sense though; now that Arthur’s secret was out, he could drop all pretenses of needing a local tour guide. He didn’t need to act like Merlin’s friend anymore.

Even so, Merlin was reluctant to admit that he missed Arthur. He couldn’t believe that all their conversations were built on lies, and there were some moments and emotions they shared that even the most experienced of actors couldn’t emulate.

But he couldn’t bring himself to face Arthur again just yet. At least not in person.

Which is why Merlin didn’t go to the press conference addressing a Pendragon Suites location opening in Ealdor, even if it was open to the general public in ancient town hall. Instead he watched it unfold with his mother in her personal room, crowded around her tiny thirteen-inch television.

“He’s searching the crowd for you,” Hunith murmured, looking up at the screen every now and then between her sewing. It was a sight that reminded Merlin of his childhood: his mother sewing up a hole in his pants after tearing them during a bout of roughhousing with Will, or lengthening them somehow when he gone through another growth spurt and they couldn't afford new clothes. She didn't do much sewing out of necessity any more, but as a way to unwind, and Merlin was grateful they could still share the quiet moment every now and then.

“He’s probably making sure I don’t show up and cause a scene,” Merlin scoffed, his eyes never leaving Arthur’s televised image. Damn, in his anger, he had nearly forgotten how good the man looked. Arthur filled out his suit like he was born to wear it, looking distinguished and poised as he stood at the podium. It was in a sharp contrast between the Arthur who wore a simple t-shirt and shorts, covered in sand and sea spray from a morning run, and Merlin wasn’t sure what look he preferred more.

“You don’t know that,” Hunith said with gentle reproval, glancing over the reading glasses that sat on the bridge of her nose. “He probably misses you as much as you miss him.”

He already knew that there was no way he could hide his feelings from his mother, but Merlin still scowled at being so easily read. “You’re not taking his side, are you? It’s bad enough you’re letting him stay here.”

Hunith shook her head, sighing. “Honestly, why wouldn’t I let him stay here? He’s a paying customer and doesn’t cause any trouble. I’m not going to kick a guest out just because he’s the son of some major hotel owner.”

“He’s not just ‘the son’; haven’t you been listening?” Merlin gestured wildly to the flickering screen. “He’s the whole reason Pendragon Suites is even coming to Ealdor.”

“We’ll be okay, Merlin,” Hunith said, giving him a soft and encouraging smile. “We always are.”

Unconvinced, Merlin chewed on his bottom lip before slowly offering, “I could...I could quit working at the shop, or have Gaius cut back my hours. That way I could come work for you, and you wouldn’t have to pay me anything. And maybe I could--”

“Will already offered to work for no pay,” Hunith interrupted. “And I’ll tell you the same thing I told him: thank you, but no. I couldn’t let either of you do that.”

“But...”

“Merlin, come here for a second.” Hunith gestured to the spot at the foot of her chair, putting her sewing off to the side for the moment. As soon as Merlin sat down with his back brushing against her knees, she leaned down to wrap her arms around him and kiss his temple. “Did I ever tell you why your father and I started this bed and breakfast?”

Merlin shook his his head wordlessly. It was rare for his mother to talk about his father so freely. He wished things were different, that they could reminisce about the happier times , especially given the fact that Merlin’s grasp on his father was muddled from being formed at an early age. But after most of their conversations about Balinor dissolved into tears over the years, both of them had learned not to press the issue.

Hunith sat back in her chair, resuming her needlework as she spoke. “He always wanted a large family, so when we found this house, it was the perfect place for us to grow in. Not long after we bought it, we found out I was pregnant with you. It was a relatively easy pregnancy, but you were a difficult baby because of your gifts.”

Merlin grinned sheepishly. He had heard stories of how he would make his stuffed animals float in mid-air as means of entertainment, or stack all of his nursery furniture against the door with a blink of an eye.

“We loved you all the same of course,” Hunith quickly assured him. “Your father in particular would come back from one of his trips at sea and would want to hear all about what new trick you had learned in his absence. But we decided to wait on having more children until you were a bit older, just in case they were as special as you. The two of us could hardly handle one magical child, let alone two or more.”

Something twisted sharply in Merlin’s stomach. Even though Hunith didn’t say it, the unspoken words were still there: _We never got the chance._

After a solemn pause, Hunith continued, her smile slightly faded. “So in the mean time, we decided to make use of the extra space we had for additional income to your father’s fishing job, and that’s why we’re a bed and breakfast today.”

“But I don’t understand,” Merlin said, frowning as he glanced back towards the television. “If this place means so much to you, why aren’t you more upset by what’s going on?”

“Oh Merlin, don’t you see? This place has always been meant for a family, not a place of business. It’s why I make food for my guests--as much as you complain about it--because I consider them like friends and loved ones during their stay here. But the truth is, as more and more people have come to visit the town, it’s become harder to run this place. Will does the best he can with the repairs, but he’s only one person.” Hunith raised her hand, running it across the dated and faded wallpaper of her room. “I’ve tried to care for this house as best as I could, but if it wasn’t for you and Will--this being your home--I would have sold the place ages ago.”

“What?” Merlin exclaimed, staring in shock. Most of his entire childhood has been spent inside the bed and breakfast walls: running up and down the halls with Will, playing hide and go seek in the unoccupied rooms (and once or twice, accidentally the occupied ones), sitting in the kitchen as he watched his mother bake. The house had stored so many memories of his, both good and bad. Of Will, of Gaius, of his mother.

The precious few he had of his father.

Sensing his distress, Hunith squeezed his shoulder. “I won’t though, so don’t worry. No matter what happens, I’ll figure something out. I keep telling Will to use this opportunity to get a better paying job. No doubt Pendragon Suites could offer him a much better salary than I ever could, but he says he refuses to work for ‘the enemy’.” She huffed. “Sometimes I don’t know who’s the more stubborn one out of the two of you.”

“...It still doesn’t change the fact that Arthur lied,” Merlin said, fidgeting with the ragged bottom hem of his jeans. “He pretended to be someone he’s really not, just to get what he wanted.”

“I agree, what he did was wrong.” Hunith frowned. “But on the other hand, I don’t blame him. Let’s put it this way: you didn’t like how Arthur judged you for being a psychic without getting to know you first, right?”

“Yeah?” Merlin had finally told her the whole story about the reading and saving Arthur’s life multiple times, and while she scolded him for putting himself in danger, she had said she was still proud of him and what he had done.

“So, what if Arthur had come here and said who was from the beginning? Don’t you think people would have judged him straight from the start? Would he have been able to observe Ealdor the same way if people thought they had to impress him, or dissuade his company from bringing their business here?”

As much as Merlin hated to admit it, his mother had a point. “...I would have still thought he’s an ass,” Merlin mumbled, “no matter who he claimed to be. I just didn’t know he was an important one.”

Hunith sighed, not even bothering to reprimand Merlin on his choice of language. “That’s because you judge people on their personality and character, not their social standing. I think you’re mostly upset not by who Arthur is or who he works for, but because he’s your friend and you’re hurt that he lied to you.”

“Maybe,” Merlin said, struggling to appear nonchalant while his emotions churned angrily in the pit of his stomach. “But just because I thought he was my friend doesn’t mean he thought I was his too.”

“Of course he did,” Hunith said with a firm nod. “You know when you work in a place like this, people often don’t remember you’re there sometimes and how much we really observe. When Arthur first checked in, he was as civil and polite to us as he always has been. But he seemed so tense and drained, as if he had been overdue for a vacation ages ago, and I hoped his stay here would help change that over time. But it wasn’t until you two started hanging around each other that he finally started to relax, and I could see how he looked at you when he probably thought no one else was watching. There’s a bond between the two of you that can’t be faked, like you’re two sides of the same coin. It’s similar to what I felt when I first met your father.”

Merlin blushed deep red at the implication, stammering, “Mom, we’re not... I mean, we haven’t...”

Hunith laughed softly at his embarrassment. “I know, you probably don’t want to talk to your mother about this. But it’s okay, Merlin, you’ve been miserable without him. Do what makes you happy.”

It all seemed so easy when she put it like that, but Merlin still wasn’t sure. “...I don’t know what would make happy right now,” he murmured, staring at the floor like his answer would be found in the patterns of the rug.

“I think, deep down inside, you’ll find that you do,” Hunith said, leaning down to hug him once more. “It’s just depends whether or not you’re willing to accept it."

***

Press conferences (and public speaking in general) were one of the things Arthur naturally excelled at. He always had pitch-perfect enunciation and the right volume control, no matter if he was addressing a crowd of ten or a hundred. With the addition of loads of heart-winning charisma and show-stopping smiles, when he spoke, people listened and clung to every word.

He supposed it was only that latent ability of his that got him through the Ealdor press conference, because through its entirety he had been caught in a daze. He didn’t even remember what he said, just reciting the speech Morgana had prepared for him. But he must have done well enough despite everything, if the boisterous applause that followed after he finished was anything to go by.

“You did pretty well, even though you looked like you weren’t quite all there at times,” Morgana later said in the rental car as Percy drove them back to The Dragon’s Call. She thumbed through her agenda on her phone, jotting down different notes on the clipboard in her lap. “The public seems to believe you, and it’s safe to say that so do our investors. Our stock is on the rise, but I already made sure to increase everyone’s shares before the price increased. And yes, before you whine about me being unfair, that’s including Gwaine’s. Though you know he’s going to sell it as soon as he gets the chance.”

Arthur didn’t comment on Morgana’s uncanny ability to predict the stock market or her comment about Gwaine, too engrossed in watching the scenery fly by outside the window.

“The main office called while you were still fielding questions on how this will stimulate Ealdor’s tourist trade and economic growth,” Morgana said, giving him a sideways smirk with one raised eyebrow. “Great job on parroting the same thing over and over by the way. I think only one or two of them caught on what you were doing towards the end.”

When there was still no response from Arthur, Morgana just sighed and continued down her list. “Father himself is coming later today for a visit. He said he wanted to congratulate you in person for the land purchase finally going through, and he said for you to personally give him a tour of the property as soon as he arrives. I suggested he make it an overnight trip, but he refused, saying there was no way he’d set foot in the rooms of our competitor, let alone some ‘second-rate, filthy bed and breakfast.’”

“It is not second-rate or filthy,” Arthur muttered, finally tearing his gaze from the window long enough to glare at Morgana.

“I know it’s not,” Morgana said, dropping her clipboard onto the seat beside her. “Those were his words, not mine. I told the same thing, but with the results you would expect from Father. But it’s nice to know you’re actually listening to me. I almost said that Gwaine and I finally gave in and had passionate hate-sex, just to see if you were paying attention.”

Arthur grimaced. “I really don’t want to hear about my friend and my sister together.”

“Oh my God, Arthur, it was a joke. Gwaine and I are definitely not fucking.” Morgana shook her head at the thought, pausing as she shrugged. “I mean, he’s not deplorable and idiotic like I first thought, and relatively decent once you get to know him. But he’s still _Gwaine_.”

Having no other reply to that, Arthur turned his focus back towards the world outside the window, his eyes glazing over like he really wasn’t seeing it.

“...Arthur, what’s with you? I thought this is what you said you wanted to happen, this is what you came here to do. The company is pretty much set in opening a hotel in Ealdor within the year.” Morgana followed Arthur’s gaze, smiling at the bright and cheerful multi-colored houses they passed by. “You really did pick a perfect location. It’s almost as if there’s something magical about the town, don’t you think?”

Two weeks ago, Arthur would have scoffed at the word “magical” being used to describe Ealdor. But thinking on how much he personally had changed in the short time he had been there, the places he had seen and the people he had met, he couldn’t think of a better term to describe it. “Yeah,” he said, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, there is.”

Morgana nudged him gently in the side. “Then why aren’t you more excited about this? Everyone can tell you’re not as happy as you should have been. Even Lance and Gwen noticed, and ever since they finally got engaged, they’re engrossed in each other more than ever.”

“What?!” Arthur’s head jerked up in shock. He knew Lance had been planning to propose, but Arthur had never been informed of the outcome. “When did this happen?”

“One or two nights ago, I think?” Morgana said, humming thoughtfully with a drum of her fingers against her pencil skirt-clad thigh. “I heard Lance took Gwen for a walk on the beach and dropped down to one knee, right there in the water and sand. They’re already talking about having the wedding in the same spot, if you can believe it. It seems since they took forever to get engaged, they want to make up for it by getting married right away. Gwen already asked for her father and brother to come down, and since Lance has no living family, they plan on having just a small ceremony. We’re all invited of course, and I told them both that we’ll help fund the cost of the whole thing.”

“...I didn’t know,” Arthur mumbled, blanking looking down at his hands, balling them into fists against his legs. He knew how much the moment meant to his friends; to Gwen getting what he personally could never give her, and to Lance gathering the courage to profess his love for her all over again.

“That’s my whole point, Arthur,” Morgana sighed. “You’ve been so caught up in this deal that no one feels they can approach you because you’ve shut everyone out. But this is different than before, when you threw yourself in the job because you enjoyed it, you lived for it. I’m not going to sugarcoat things: you were an ass to be around when you overworked yourself, biting the head off anyone who didn’t quite meet your damn perfect standards.”

Arthur cringed at Morgana’s accurate description of him and his work ethics. No wonder only his friends could manage to work with him; no one else had been able to put up with him and his occasional foul moods for too long.

“But this?” Morgana gestured towards Arthur with a general sweep of her hand, wrinkling her nose. “This is just plain pitiful. Face it Arthur: you’re _miserable_.”

He knew he probably should be offended by her assessment, but Arthur wasn’t in the slightest. Not when he knew everything she said rang true. “...I thought Merlin would be at the press conference.”

“Why would he? Did you give him a reason to show up?” Morgana rolled her eyes. “What, did you just expect him to burst through the doors, your eyes would meet across the crowd, and you’d run into each other’s arms amidst thundering applause?”

“Damn it, Morgana,” Arthur growled, grinding his teeth at being mocked. “I’m trying to be serious here.”

“Then act like it,” Morgana countered with a small snort. “If you want to see Merlin again, you have to be the one to approach him, not the other way around. Talk to him, and I know it’s a foreign concept, but you might even have to grovel a bit.”

“But what if he doesn’t want to hear what I have to say?” Arthur asked, hating how vulnerable he felt while discussing Merlin and his feelings. “What if he doesn’t believe me?”

As the car rolled to a stop, Morgana reached across to open Arthur’s door for him. “Then make him listen.”

Instantly Arthur recognized the area they were parked in: the section of boardwalk where Kilgharrah’s Keep was located was only a short walking distance away. “You planned this,” Arthur said, staring at Morgana incredulously. He then met Percy’s eyes in the rear-view mirror--the man had been quiet during the whole ride, but the encouraging smile on his lips suggested he had heard everything. “The both of you, this whole time.”

“What, are you kidding me?” Morgana laughed, waving her clipboard in front of Arthur’s astonished face with a satisfied smirk. “Of course I did. Come on Arthur, it’s not like you to give up on something so easily. You better be prepared to put up a hell of a fight for Merlin, or I personally will never forgive you.”

Arthur gazed longingly in the direction of Merlin’s shop before stubbornly shaking his head. “You said Father was arriving later today. I can’t go gallivanting around when I need to prepare for--”

“Just forget about work for a minute and go, Arthur!” Morgana unbuckled his seatbelt and practically shoved him out of the car, closing the door and locking it before he could protest even more. She then rolled down the window, winking as he spluttered in disbelief at the move. “I’ll stall Father if I need to, but hurry up and apologize to Merlin so you two can have your happy ending already. Don’t let Lance and Gwen monopolize the lovey-dovey couple market.”

“I swear to God, Morgana,” Arthur said, pinching the bridge of his nose to hide the smile that was forming despite himself. He was trying to not let on how just the prospect of seeing Merlin again improved his mood, even as he unconsciously bounced on the balls of his feet in anticipation. “As soon as we get back home, I am burning all your romantic comedy DVDS. Merlin and I are not going to ‘run into each other’s arms’ or ‘riding off into the sunset together’, no matter what you may think.”

Morgana laughed again, giving a wave before she signaled for Percy to drive off. A few seconds later, Arthur’s phone beeped, and he glanced down to see she had sent him a text. _I never mentioned anything about riding off into the sunset. Projecting much, Arthur?_

Yeah, Arthur thought as he started to make a mad dash towards the boardwalk, regardless of his fitted suit and dress shoes. Just maybe he was.

***

  


While he knew firsthand how dangerous and unforgiving the sea could be, Merlin still found peace in watching the flow and ebb of the swirling waves. Which is why as soon as left his mother (he was reluctant to be around when Arthur returned to the bed and breakfast), he had made his way to his favorite spot to gaze out at the water.

The wind rolled off the ocean surface and whipped wildly through his hair, and he tugged his scuffed-up jacket tighter around him, the aroma of the old leather mingling with the crisp salt air. It was unusually cool for an early summer’s day, but it seemed to fit his mood perfectly.

Even after the conversation with his mother, Merlin remained unsure how to act next, feeling like he was being pulled in multiple directions at once. No doubt Arthur would be leaving Ealdor soon (if he hadn’t already), just like Merlin had wanted in the first place. Maybe over time, Merlin would learn to forget Arthur. After all, he had to keep reminding himself that they actually hadn’t actually known each other for that long. Even if sometimes it felt like forever.

But as much as it hurt to cling to the brief yet memorable time they shared, Merlin knew he didn’t want to forget Arthur. But he didn’t know if he could overlook what Arthur had done so easily either. His mother had assured him of her and the bed and breakfast’s well-being, but Merlin was still stinging under the feeling that he had been used somehow.

Sudden footsteps reverberating against the weathered wood of the pier alerted Merlin that someone was coming up behind him, and he instinctively moved to the side and out of the way. The small pier was one of the few tucked away from the larger (and more frequented) main one, making it popular among fishermen searching for peace and quiet away from the crowds. They usually ignored Merlin, save for the odd small talk, and he thought the clacking of rods and whirling of reels added to the calming ambiance of the area.

He really didn’t want to deal with anyone at the moment, but Merlin could accept the presence of a stranger much easier over--

“I was starting to wonder if I would ever find out where the hell you were.”

After lying dormant and unresponsive for the past few days, Merlin’s magic surged up with renewed fervor at the sound of a painfully familiar voice, flaring out of him like burst of energy from the sun. Merlin flinched and slowly turned around, not sure if he should feel ecstatic or terrified to see Arthur again.

The television had hardly done Arthur justice; even with his suit disheveled and his chest slightly heaving from exertion (had he run the entire way there?), he still managed to look as attractive as ever. Growing self-conscious of his unkempt hair and crumpled, two day-old clothes, Merlin took a step back as Arthur continued to approach.

“Arthur,” Merlin said, trying to keep calm even as he bumped into the pier railing, left with no more room to move. “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t at the shop,” Arthur said, staring with such a fierce intensity it sent a shiver up Merlin’s spine. It was like Arthur was afraid that, if he even blinked, Merlin would disappear in a puff of smoke. “So I asked your uncle, who directed me to your mother. She said you were most likely at your favorite pier, because that’s where you go where you want to by yourself and think. The problem is, she didn’t specify which one it was, and do you know how many piers there are in Ealdor?”

“Um,” Merlin said, his overwhelmed brain trying to calculate on the fly. “...Four?”

“Five actually,” Arthur said, running a hand through his sweaty hair with a lopsided smile. “And of course you had to be at the last one I searched.”

“Arthur, _what_ are you doing here?” Merlin repeated, refusing to allow himself to get hopeful over the fact that Arthur had searched nearly all over Ealdor for him. “Why you were looking for me?”

Seconds uncomfortably ticked by with no forthcoming answer, and just when Merlin was about to give up and tell Arthur to just leave him alone, Arthur shifted uneasily. “I wanted to...apologize. I never meant for you to find out this way.”

“You mean you planned on me never finding out altogether,” Merlin snapped, all built-up anger bubbling to the surface. “Or if I did, it would be after you left, or if I saw your face again at the grand opening of your hotel.”

Arthur at least had the decency to appear contrite. “That was exactly it. You probably don’t understand, and I really don’t blame you if you don’t, but this was just supposed to be another job to me. I didn’t want to deal with the hassle of people knowing the truth behind why I was here, and I didn’t realize how stupid and cowardly the idea really was until it was too late.”

“If it was just a job, why bother getting me involved?” Merlin asked, unable to keep his voice from trembling with emotion. “Was it all some sort of joke to you? Did you and your friends enjoy laughing at how clueless I was behind my back?”

“No, they had nothing to do with this!” Arthur shouted, instantly defensive of his friends. “They hated the idea from the beginning, especially when they started to love you. It’s thanks to you that Lance and Gwen finally got engaged because none of us could convince him ourselves. And I think you might have been right in thinking Gwaine and Morgana have something going on, but I can never tell with those two. The point is, I’m sure right now they would much rather be your friend than mine.”

Merlin smiled slightly despite himself. It wasn’t just Arthur that he missed, but the whole group as well. But he had cut off all contact from them because of their connection to Arthur, and thought he had lost their friendship in the process. It was relieving to hear otherwise, to have hope that their relationships might be salvageable.

“No, this was all my fault,” Arthur continued, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed deeply. “I was worried you were the one person that could ruin my whole plans if you knew, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for lying to you, for how I treated you, for not telling you myself when I had the chance. For everything.”

Truthfully, Merlin had started to forgive Arthur already, even before the apology. It wasn’t in Merlin’s nature to truly despise someone, and Arthur was no exception, no matter what happened. But Merlin was still unwilling to jump to any conclusions as to what that meant for the two of them.

Waves crashed against the shore, seagulls cried in their flight overhead, and Arthur and Merlin continued to stand there, neither one sure how to go about mending the metaphorical chasm that had formed in between them.

“...God Merlin, will you just say something already?” Arthur finally exclaimed, his nervousness hidden behind his brusque tone. Almost as an afterthought, he winced. “I mean--”

“If you were so worried I would ruin your plans, why did you decide to hang out with me?” Merlin asked, struggling to get the words out. “What made you change your mind?”

“Because I wanted to know why someone, who had every reason to hate me, seemed to care about my well-being enough to risk their own safety,” Arthur said, quiet admiration filling his expression as his gaze locked with Merlin’s. “Because while sometimes you can be a complete idiot, tell the worst jokes I have ever heard, and have horrible taste in music, clothing, and pretty much everything else, you’re also one of the best friends I’ve ever had. One I truly don’t deserve, but wish to keep with all my heart.”

Before Arthur even finished, Merlin was wiping the tears away from the corners of his eyes, choking out a weak laugh. “You’re such an ass,” he said softly, his lips trembling into the beginnings of a small smile. “You know that?”

Arthur just grinned, his own eyes shining as he crossed the remaining distance between them. “I missed you too, Merlin,” he said, wrapping an arm around and drawing Merlin in close.

It was just supposed to be a simple, friendly embrace, not even a full hug. But Merlin gasped as a jolt of electricity ran through him at the mere touch of Arthur’s arm on his back. Through their combined layers of clothing, Merlin could feel Arthur’s warmth rising off of him, and the urge to press their bodies closer together flitted across Merlin’s mind. Arthur must have felt something too, for his pupils were darkened as he pulled away, the loss of heat making Merlin shiver.

“I should go; I’m surprised Morgana hasn’t called and chewed me out for taking so long, especially my father is supposed to be arriving any moment now.” Noticing how Merlin blanched, Arthur gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Look, we’ll have to talk later about this, but I promise we’ll figure something out. How about dinner tonight?”

Merlin nodded dumbly, his mind still reeling over everything that had happened in the past few minutes. “That sounds good. ...And now that I know you’re rich, I’m making you buy all my meals from now on.”

Throwing his head back, Arthur laughed loudly, reminding Merlin on how much he missed the sound. “Fair enough, though it’s not like you eat much anyways. How the hell can you stay so thin and scrawny?” He poked Merlin’s flattened stomach to prove his point. “But I’ll call you, okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” Merlin said, feeling his cheeks redden a little bit more every time Arthur touched him. He wondered if Arthur noticed, and if he did, if he was doing it on purpose. "See you later."

Arthur seemed to be as hesitant to leave as Merlin was to let him go, but eventually he went off with a wave, and Merlin was alone once more. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling as he rested his hand on the pier railing, his magic thrumming all around him in utter content.

He knew he and Arthur still had to talk more and work out their differences, but it looked like mending the rift between them would be easier than Merlin originally thought. Maybe he shouldn't be too optimistic, but if it all went well, Merlin might be even share his own secret to Arthur. That would make him the only other person outside family (Will included) who knew about Merlin's gifts.

The feeling in the air abruptly shifted, and his magic shrank back inside him as the gull cries went silent, leaving behind the now howling wind and churning waves. Merlin jerked his head to the sky, his face growing deathly white at the dark grey clouds rolling over the horizon. How long had he been standing there, lost in his own thoughts about Arthur, that he had completely missed the warning signs?

Maybe, if Merlin hurried, he could make it inside to safety, away from the storm and the horrifying remnants of the past it always brought along with it.

...Oh God, how could he have forgotten? The one thing about Arthur leaving Ealdor was that the rest of the crystal reading wouldn't have a chance to come true. But he was still there, and no doubt already with his father, who would probably want to see the newly purchased property.

The scenario fit the one vision the crystal had given Merlin too well to be a coincidence: Arthur would be caught out in the storm, and if Merlin didn't do anything, he may even die.

The low rumble of incoming thunder made Merlin jump, clamping hands over his ears and shutting his eyes tightly as he took in deep, shuddering breaths. His mother was probably worried sick wondering where he was, for she was used to always making sure he was inside when the weather turned.

Merlin could dive off tall piers, stand down rabid dogs, and duck swerving cars--all for Arthur. But his fear of storms was too great to ignore.

And yet, the fear of harm coming to Arthur was even greater.

The fingers of lightning scratching across the sky were what spurred him into action, and he abandoned all ideas of finding shelter as he ran as fast as he could in his life. He rushed up the pier, past the sandy dunes and into the streets of town, darting past buildings and through alleyways. The clouds finally split open, dumping buckets of rainwater on Merlin's head, drenching him to the bone in a matter of minutes.

But he didn't stop, not even as the puddles that sprang seemingly out of nowhere soaked his shoes, making his feet hit the pavement with a soggy squish at every step. Not even as his body began to involuntary shiver from the freezing rain and relentless wind that nipped at his damp skin. Not even as memories of the last time he had been foolish to be out in a storm flooded his brain, threatening to drown him in misery.

It all didn't matter, not when he was determined never to lose someone to the fury of nature ever again.

***

“Oh thank God you’re finally here,” Morgana whispered out of the corner of her mouth as Arthur quietly slid into the seat next to her. Merely seconds after Arthur left Merlin at the pier, she had messaged him with instructions to meet at the restaurant where their father and a few other visiting colleagues were having lunch, and it seemed Arthur had arrived just as the dishes were being cleared away. “If I had to listen to another one of Geoffrey’s boring anecdotes about fiscal reports, I couldn’t be held accountable for where I might have lodged my dessert fork.”

Arthur quickly hid his face behind his menu; the smile he wore at Morgana’s words about the ancient and dusty Pendragon Suites board member currently speaking on various matters of business wouldn’t be deemed appropriate.

“Well spoken, as always Geoffrey,” Uther said as the discussion at the table drew to a close, and he clapped a congratulatory hand against Geoffrey’s back as the elderly man sat down. Uther then turned towards Arthur, acknowledging his son’s presence with a disappointed frown. “And I was starting to wonder if you would ever show up, Arthur. The rest of us have already had lunch and are currently waiting on the bill.”

“My apologies, sir, to you and members of the board that are present here,” Arthur said, following the proper protocol for the situation to the best of his abilities. He closed his menu and handed it to a nearby waitress, signaling that he didn’t need to order; he wasn’t that hungry, and he had already wasted enough time of everyone seated at the table. “I had...an urgent matter to take care of.”

"Yes, Morgana had mentioned that you might be delayed, but failed to go into specifics." Uther shot Arthur a questioning look before flipping open one of the folders that rested on the table. "Whatever the reason, it's of no importance. I was reading over the reports you and your team sent, and I must say, I'm thoroughly impressed with all your hard work."

There was once a time where Arthur craved even the simplest form of praise from his father, to the point where he would be willing to bend over backwards to get it. But now that he had practically been handed it, Arthur found he didn't need it as much as he thought he had. "Thank you sir, but I couldn't have done it without my team. They deserve all the credit."

Uther chuckled, strangely amused at Arthur's response. "No need to be so modest, Arthur. True, it's important to have good people working under you, but strong leadership plays the key role in a successful business. Don't forget that without you to guide them, there would be no company."

There were murmurs of agreement around the table, with the exception of Morgana and Arthur. "Forgive me, sir," Arthur interjected, "But shouldn't it be the other way around?"

The murmurs went silent as all eyes turned towards Arthur, and Uther furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"Just as much as our employees need us, we need them, no matter what their position," Arthur explained, ignoring the confused and worried glances Morgana was giving him for speaking up. He knew he was playing with fire for publicly disagreeing with Uther, but if he was careful enough, he wouldn't get burned. "We might not pay much attention to the maids that clean our rooms, or the chefs that prepare our meals. But they work just as hard as you and I, probably even more so, and they deserve credit for all that they do. We should be working for them, just as much as they work for us."

"...I can see you feel quite strongly about this," Uther said, nodding in approval. "And I concede that you may have a point. But let's move on, shall we? I'm eager to see this new property in person while we go over some of the ideas you had. Leon, go find out why they're taking so long to calculate our checks, then have the car brought around."

Arthur whipped his head around, staring in surprise. He didn't even realize Leon had been standing nearby the entire time. It made Arthur miss the dynamics of the past week, where Leon had always sat down at the table like he was an equal, not stand to the side like he was just hired help. It was the sort of thing Arthur had just brought up, but apparently his father had completely ignored his words.

He ground his teeth together as the rest of the group made small talk while waiting for the bill to be paid. Once that matter had been taken care off (and Arthur had slipped the waitress an extra tip, knowing how stingy his father could be), Uther was the first to stand. "Shall we be off then?"

"I'll have to pass, sadly," Morgana said, not looking the least bit bothered at missing out on the excursion. "I promised Gwen I would help her pick out a wedding dress today, and I'm sure you don't need me walking out in that land with heels on."

Morgana could probably traverse the most formidable terrain in stilettos without even breaking a sweat. But she always knew the exact words to say to get out of something she had no interest in. Instead of being visibly upset, Uther just nodded and waved her off condescendingly. “Understandable. Perhaps we can have a family dinner then, just the three of us, before I have to leave tonight.”

Slight panic surged through Arthur's veins, even as he schooled his features to remain calm. Though most of their "family dinners" were filled with terse conversation and long, drawn-out silences (and those were the ones went well; a lot tended to involve angry outbursts and then apologies made through gritted teeth), they were a rarity that Uther thought should be treated as such. But as much as he didn't want to incur his father's wrath for declining, Arthur didn't want to have to cancel on Merlin when the grounds for their friendship were still rather shaky.

Fortunately, Morgana seemed to sense his inner turmoil. "We can't do that either; Lance and Gwen are having their official engagement party tonight, and it would reflect poorly on us if we didn't attend. Isn't that right, Arthur?"

"Right," Arthur said quickly, breathing a sigh of relief. Maybe Morgana really wasn't the horrible witch he always made her out to be. Though if the smirk she gave him was any indication, there would be serious amounts of teasing in Arthur's near future.

"Some other time then, when the two of you return," Uther said, obviously displeased. But he wasn't about to make an unnecessary scene in public when he could wait until he was behind closed doors. "Arthur, lead the way then. I'm counting on you to provide the tour."

Not about to argue when he knew he was already treading on thin ice, Arthur nodded before heading outside where Leon already had the town car waiting. The daylight was darker than he expected for being in the restaurant for a short period of time, and he frowned as he glanced up at the sky. "Maybe we should postpone this outing for another day, when the weather is more cooperative?"

"Nonsense," Uther huffed, forcefully opening the car door before Leon had a chance to offer. "A little rain never hurt anyone."

"Except those with arthritis in our joints," Geoffrey said, making a show of rubbing at his shoulder. "I think I and the rest of the board members will wait for another time, Uther."

For a brief second, it looked like the tour would be called off, which worked well in Arthur's favor. He could possibly meet with Merlin for an early dinner, get some drinks, and then--

"Fine, Arthur and I will go then," Uther said, clapping a hand on Arthur's back and smiling widely. "It will give us a chance to talk, since we were unable to do so at lunch."

The subject was clearly not up for discussion, so Arthur wordlessly slunk into the back seat, wishing he had the excuse of arthritis or the like as well not to go. He knew his reluctance didn't make sense; he should be eager to show off what a prize of a property he had acquired for the company, to go on and on about the various ideas he had for the hotel. This was his chance to prove to his father he could handle a great magnitude of responsibility, and while he was proud of the work he and his team had accomplished, he still felt disinterested somehow. He wondered if this is what people meant when they referred to as "being burned out".

"This town’s buildings are a little too tacky for my tastes; I would fire whatever painter chose to paint my home in such garish colors," Uther said with a chuckle as the car began to drive to their destination. "But the marketability for all things quaint is at a high the moment, so I'm sure this is the time for us to capitalize on it. Now, tell me about this establishment you're currently residing in. 'The Dragon's Call', was it?"

Arthur hated the patronizing tone in Uther's voice, yet hated himself more for having the exact same attitude when he first arrived in Ealdor. Had he come off as that much of an obnoxious snob? "What about it?" he asked with a shrug, trying to keep a nonchalant tone. "There's not much to tell."

Uther scoffed. "Honestly, Arthur, you've been away for what, nearly a week, and you've seemed to have forgotten everything I've taught you. Details, Arthur, give me details. How easy do you think it would be to shut their doors for good?"

Arthur had been expecting the question, but it still didn't lessen the sour taste in his mouth. "I don't think that would be the best idea," he explained, choosing his words carefully. "At least not right away. It's a family owned business, and the building itself is possibly old enough to be an historical landmark. If Pendragon Suites were to hassle the proprietors, we might receive backlash from the town instead of the support we need."

"Bah, you sound just like Morgana. I keep having to remind your sister that while she works in public relations, it's supposed to be for my benefit, not the public's." Uther paused, then waved it off. "Fine, we'll let them run themselves out of business; their number of guests will undoubtedly dwindle once our location here is open."

Feeling sick to his stomach at the thought, Arthur gave a half-hearted nod, turning his face towards the window as he watched droplets of heavy rain splatter against the glass.

"Sir," Leon said from the driver's seat as he flipped the windshield wipers on. "Are you sure you want to do this today? This storm is only bound to get worse before it gets better."

"I admit it's unfortunate timing, but I'm not going to waste my trip out here, nor make another any time soon. There are umbrellas under the seat for this very reason," Uther said, catching Leon's gaze in the rear-view mirror. "Unless this is just your roundabout way of saying you're unable to perform your duties properly in a bit of bad weather, Mr. Knight."

It was a deliberate challenge, and Leon was wise enough to bow down. "No sir, my apologies."

"Good, glad to hear it." Uther settled back into his seat, his words warning despite their context. "Perhaps in the future--"

A boom of thunder crashed overhead and drowned out the rest of Uther's words. The few droplets of rain soon became waves upon waves crashing down on the car, mixed with a slight scattering of hail. Leon was forced to slow his speed to nearly a snail's pace; even with the headlights on full beam and the windshield wipers working furiously, it was impossible to see more than a few feet in front of the car.

Uther still remained unperturbed. "We can wait it out if we have to; I doubt it will last much longer."

Suddenly, a darkened form rushed from the undergrowth and into the middle of road. Even going at a slower pace, Leon still had to slam on the brakes, the tires skidding wildly on the flooded asphalt.

"Who the devil is that?!" Uther shouted as the headlights revealed that the form wasn't a large animal like Arthur originally thought.

It was Merlin.

Without even giving it a second thought, Arthur rushed out of the car and to Merlin, shaking him furiously. "Merlin, are you crazy? What are you doing out here?"

Merlin whispered something in response, but his words were carried away in the wind. Before Arthur could have him repeat himself, a hand reached out to wrench Arthur back by his shoulder, and soon he was face to face with his very livid father.

"Arthur, what do you think you're doing?" Uther roared, his face a deep red under the shade of his umbrella. He then shot a glare in Merlin's direction. "As for you, I should have you arrested for--"

"Father, it's okay!" Arthur quickly placed himself in front of Uther, wanting to shield Merlin from his father's wrath as much as possible. "Merlin is...a friend."

"A friend," Uther repeated incredulously. "Since when do you have friends who are suicidal enough to dart in front of cars in the middle of a storm?"

"I was trying to stop Arthur before he went any farther," Merlin shakily explained, his voice barely audible. "If I didn't, Arthur could have seriously been hurt, or--"

Uther pushed past Arthur to slam Merlin to the ground. " _How dare you_!" he snarled, raising back his fist in preparation to strike. "How dare you threaten my son!"

"No! No, it's not like that!" Merlin weakly protested, holding his arms out in front of his face. "I had a vision...that he was in danger...and I..."

"Wait, Father, stop!" Even though his father was at least twenty years his senior, Arthur had to use all his strength to pull Uther away.

"What is he babbling on about?" Uther sneered, rolling his shoulders. "What's this nonsense about a vision? What danger?"

An earth-shaking, ear-splitting boom soon provided the answer as a bolt of lightning struck an ancient oak tree just a little up the road from where they stood. It was so close, Arthur could feel the electricity crackle through the air, making the hairs on his arms stand straight on the ends of their roots. With a mighty groan, the tree split, its heavy branches toppling down with a thud, snapping power lines that buzzed and jumped like hissing snakes against the ground.

If they hadn't stopped when they did, if they had kept on driving, there was no doubt in Arthur's mind that they would have been dead. If not by the pieces of massive foliage now blocking the road, then by the fallen power wires instead.

"...Oh dear God," Uther said softly, probably reaching the same conclusion that Arthur had.

"Now can we cancel the damn tour?" Arthur growled, wiping water from his brow. "Let's get the hell out of here. But first, you need to apologize to--"

But when Arthur whirled around, Merlin was gone.

***

"...You _idiot_."

Merlin flickered back to consciousness, wondering when his view of the world had become so horizontal. Then he remembered; he had scrambled blindly through the storm, his only guide the rain-slicked road under his wobbly feet. But the fatigue that had been nipping at his heels during his entire search for Arthur had finally caught up to him, and when he tripped and fell to his hands and knees into the cold mud, he didn't have any remaining strength to get back up. Instead, he rolled to his side and pulled himself into a protective ball, trying to block the elements out as best as he could.

That was until there was someone shaking him, speaking to him, and yet he was only catching snatches of sentences. "You idiot," the familiar voice repeated, "Merlin--what were you thinking? Are you listening...can you hear...MERLIN!"

"...Arthur?" Merlin croaked, spitting out rainwater as his bleary vision struggled to focus on Arthur's face. "Arthur, what are you doing here?"

Even though his eyes were filled with unabashed concern, Arthur still gave them a slight roll. "I should be asking you that, seeing as you're the one who almost drowned in a puddle. Merlin, why the hell did you leave? We could have driven you back to town."

It was impossible to explain his own actions when Merlin didn't even understand them. The lightning hitting so close had been his breaking point, and in the sheer terror that overwhelmed him, he had panicked and fled. "I couldn't...I had to..."

"Come on, we can discuss your lack of self-preservation later," Arthur said, rising up and tugging Merlin to a standing position. "Can you walk?"

After just one step, Merlin stumbled, and would've sank back to the ground if not for Arthur's firm grip. His knees felt like they were made of gelatin, and he could hardly see straight he was so dizzy. "Arthur, just get yourself out of the storm," he mumbled. "I'll be okay."

"Very funny, Merlin," Arthur said, and with one fluid movement, hoisted Merlin over his shoulder. "I'm not leaving you out here alone, even if you do weigh more than you look."

Merlin mumbled something in protest as his limp body jostled against Arthur's, not helping Merlin's off-balanced vertigo at all. He shut his eyes tightly to combat the nausea brought on by the blurred green, brown, and gray swirls of scenery flying upside down by his head, and instead focused on the flexing of Arthur's muscles beneath him. It was comforting somehow, and despite his awkward position, Merlin felt himself starting to relax, losing all sense of time.

The sound of bells made him jerk his head up, and Merlin blinked in surprise as he recognized the waiting room of his uncle's shop, even in the darkness. He made a hasty calculation in his head; when Arthur had found him, Merlin had been at least a mile away from town, if not more.

And yet Arthur had managed to carry him the entire way.

"Wait here a minute," Arthur instructed, his face slightly red from exertion as he dropped Merlin into the nearest chair, "I'll get some towels to dry us off and try to get a cell phone signal."

"Towels are in the closet upstairs on the right," Merlin mumbled, curling back up into his earlier balled up position reflexively. In any other situation, he would have laughed at Arthur's instruction to wait in the chair. It wasn't like he would be going anywhere else, not when the raging storm outside left him petrified with fear.

That, in combination with cool air hitting his wet skin, made him shake uncontrollably, and he buried inside himself for any lingering body heat, pulling his arms out of his jacket to wrap them around his inner core. A flash of light lit up the entire store, followed by a crash of thunder, and he whimpered softly as he pulled up his knees to tuck them under his chin.

A towel was draped across his shoulders, and a second, smaller one plopped on his head. Merlin looked up in confusion to find Arthur drying his own hair.

"Power's out all over town, but we could have figured that out," Arthur said calmly, stripping out of his suit jacket and shaking it out with a grimace. He toed out of his shoes, kicking them to the side as he continued to talk. "Phone lines are still working though. I called and let your mother know you were with me and relatively safe. Good thing too, since your uncle is with her and they were about to go out searching for you."

Merlin shrank down in his chair, feeling guilty for worrying his family. If he had the time, he should have let them know what was going on before his search for Arthur. "...What about your father?"

Arthur frowned. "He's there for the time being as well, finally seeing sense and waiting out this storm. I'll probably never hear the end of how I made Leon take him back without me while I looked for you."

"...You were looking for me," Merlin echoed, his voice brimming with awe. He lowered his head, a soft smile on his face as warmth spread through his cheeks. "You were worried about me."

"Of course I was," Arthur snorted, shooting Merlin an incredulous look before rubbing Merlin's head vigorously with the towel. "Honestly, you're such an idiot sometimes, worrying about my safety but never your own. I'm just lucky you stuck towards the road, even if you were practically face down in a ditch. It would've been a lot easier if you had a cell I could call, you know; it doesn't help me much if I only have the number to the shop here."

"Sorry," Merlin mumbled, growing increasingly embarrassed by the trouble he had apparently caused. He had only thought of making sure Arthur was okay and nothing else. But in the end, it seemed he had just risked Arthur's safety with his recklessness.

"The truth is," Arthur's hands stilled over the towel, all teasing dissipating from his tone, "I came back because I couldn't bear the thought of losing you."

"Really?" Merlin glanced up at Arthur, taken back his intense, smoldering gaze. Suddenly Merlin felt like he was burning up, as if the rainwater was about to start steaming off of him.

"...Come on, we need to change out of these clothes," Arthur said, grasping Merlin's arm and lifting him up out of the seat. Merlin tested his stance, and while he was still a little shaky, he could at least carry his own weight this time. Arthur being right by his side helped too, and together they slowly made their way upstairs.

As soon as they entered Merlin's bedroom, there was a pitiful mew, followed by Aithusa popping his head out from his hiding place under the bed. Instantly the kitten clamored all over Merlin, begging to be picked up. When Merlin eagerly obliged, he didn't know if it was more for Aithusa's benefit or his own, the purring against his chest combating the rapid pounding of his heart.

Arthur grumbled as he navigated the hazards of the darkened room, guided only by the grey, eerie glow of light provided by the lone window. "Please tell me you have clothes I can borrow that _aren't_ shoved in a pile on your floor?"

Merlin chuckled weakly; there was no heat behind Arthur’s words, and Merlin suspected the bits of banter were an attempt to lighten the heavy mood that hung around them. Merlin went to his dresser and rummaged through the drawers before pulling out a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and an old t-shirt that had always been too big on him. “Here, does this work?” he asked, holding the clothes up for inspection. “If not, we could see if my uncle has anything--”

“I’ve seen your uncle’s clothing, and it’s worse than yours,” Arthur snorted, grabbing the offered shirt and pants. “I think I’d rather freeze to death in wet clothing than wear tie-dye.”

Before Merlin could respond, Arthur unbuttoned his shirt before stripping it away from his body, and Merlin was temporarily distracted by the sight of bronzed, well-toned shoulders. It was only when Arthur reached for his belt that Merlin thought to avert his gaze, the beginnings of a blush crossing the bridge of his nose. He tried not to focus on the sounds of Arthur changing, tried not to focus on how strangely excited he got over the thought of Arthur wearing his clothes, tried not to focus on how he had forgot to give Arthur some sort of briefs. Would Arthur wear his own, or would he go without--oh God...

“ _Mer_ lin, don’t just stand there!”

Merlin jumped slightly, the hairs on the back of his damp, chilled neck standing up as Arthur’s breath brushed against his skin.

“You’ve been dripping water everywhere since we came in,” Arthur said, tugging on the collar of Merlin’s jacket. “How long had you been out there before I found you?”

“Um, since the storm started,” Merlin said, shifting Aithusa in his arms so he could take the jacket completely off, letting it fall to the floor with an unceremonious thud. He felt Arthur’s hands work at peeling away the soaked fabric of his shirt away from his skin, but Merlin shied away from Arthur’s touch, mumbling, “I...I can do the rest by myself.”

Arthur jerked back, as if he was snapping out of a trance, unaware of what he had been doing a mere second ago. “...Yeah, okay.”

It was then that Merlin noticed how even his largest shirt stretched tightly against the broad planes of Arthur’s chest, the outlines of pectoral muscles clearly visible through the thin fabric. Merlin unconsciously glanced lower and then wished he hadn’t. The pajama bottoms left nothing to the imagination either--Arthur had clearly gone without any sort of undergarments.

Whirling around before he was caught gaping, Merlin placed Aithusa down as he fumbled through removing the rest of his wet clothes. He could have sworn he felt Arthur’s eyes boring into him the entire time he changed, but when he turned back, Arthur seemed to be interested in the decor of the room.

The air buzzed with an anxious sort of energy, and Merlin rubbed his arm absentmindedly before taking a hesitant step in Arthur’s direction. “Arthur, I--”

A fierce bout of lightning and thunder interrupted as it shook the panes of glass in the window, and instantly Merlin crouched low to the ground, arms wrapped around his head. Aithusa ran underneath the bed, and Merlin remembered the days he used to do that as well.

"...You're scared of storms." It was a statement more than a question, but when Merlin peeked up at Arthur, he was staring down with a mixture of surprise of disbelief and surprise. Merlin grew shameful under the scrutiny, and wondered if Arthur had ever been scared of anything in his life. "I know, it's stupid--"

"Stupid? Merlin, I saw a bolt of lightning strike down a tree that could have flattened the car I was riding in. Hell, I might be a little scared of them myself now, but you...” Arthur paused, kneeling down in front of Merlin and placing a hand on his shoulder. “You still went out in one. To find me."

"Some things are more terrifying than storms," Merlin whispered before he could stop himself. Just because he had broken the unspoken rule earlier with his mention of the vision didn’t mean he should bring it up again now.

But Arthur didn’t seem to care or even notice, the expression on his face morphing into one bursting with admiration. “I should have said this sooner,” he said softly as he pulled Merlin close to his chest. “But thank you.”

Merlin tumbled into the embrace, melting in the gentle warmth that radiated outwards from Arthur. The rest of his body went limp and boneless as he clung to the strength in Arthur’s biceps and the protection they silently offered.

"I truly do mean it, Merlin. Not just for me, but for Leon, and my father as well." Arthur sighed, his voice trembling as he continued. "...What he said to you was unfair, and I know some of the things I've said about him place him in a less than savoury light...but he is still my father, and if I lost him... I don't know what I would do..."

"I know," Merlin said, the ache in his chest from understanding too much making it hard for him to breathe. His next words came spilling out of his mouth on their own volition. "...My father died when I was five years old."

Arthur tensed at the sudden confession, but said nothing, at least not audibly. Instead, his hand rubbing soothing circles in the small of Merlin's back was what prompted Merlin to continue talking about a subject his family had danced around for years. "He was a fisherman, and would often spend days, sometimes even weeks out at sea. He knew where all the best spots to drop his nets were, which fish thrived better in the colder waters, stuff like that."

What Merlin didn't mention is how Gaius had let it slip one day that Balinor used his own brand of magic to be so efficient in his fishing. That the waters only relinquished their plentiful bounty to him thanks to his relationship with nature and respect of the sea.

One of Merlin's earliest and fondest recollections was when he and his father were fishing off his favorite pier: Merlin had been so proud when he finally caught something, and so disappointed when Balinor let the fish go.

" _That one was much too small and young to be any use to us. Its death would be senseless_ ," Balinor had explained in that calm, measured tone he always used, akin to the soft push and pull of the ocean waves. " _We only take from the sea what she is willing to give us, and only what we need_."

Realizing Arthur was waiting for him to finish, Merlin shook off the ensnaring tendrils of happier times gone by as he delved deeper into the forest of his memories. "When he was out on one of his trips, my mother brought me over here to visit my uncle. They were in the kitchen having tea, and I was playing around in the back room. It was one of my favorite spots, even though my uncle had warned me many times not touch anything in there."

Merlin closed his eyes, wondering once more what would have happened if he hadn't been so damn curious and actually listened. His father's fate would have remained the same, but maybe Merlin would be free of the overwhelming guilt chained to him for the rest of his life.

"He had accidentally left the crystal down on the table; he usually put it up high when I was around, because it's fragile and expensive," Merlin said, his voice starting to shake as vivid flashes of the scene began to paint themselves on the back of his eyelids. "So of course when I saw it so low, I wanted to see what the fuss was all about."

The crystal had served as some ancient artifact to be reclaimed in his game of pretend. He had traversed invisible obstacles, ducked past imaginary booby traps, and reached out to claim his "treasure"...

"My mother suddenly heard me screaming my head off from the other room, and rushed in to find me curled up on the floor," Merlin whispered, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes in a failed attempt to seal the tears welling up inside. "Apparently I kept crying something about my father and his ship and a storm. She thought it was just that I missed my father, because he had been out for awhile at the time, not knowing I had touched the crystal. I think she still feels bad for not understanding what I was trying to say earlier. Not that it would have changed anything."

Arthur cursed under his breath, obviously becoming aware of where Merlin's story was heading. Merlin was unable to stop now though, the remnants of that first vision still raw and visceral over the years. "Only a few days later, a storm hit the area out of nowhere, and we lost radio contact with my father. His boat was never found," Merlin said, choking out a strangled sob. "But I had seen it myself, I saw it struggle as it sank under the waves... I watched my own father die."

"...Merlin..."Arthur started helplessly, but had to stop, in that particular way when someone wanted to say something but was at a complete loss of words. But Merlin shook his head his head, not letting Arthur have a chance to find them. He had to get everything out first, like a wound that had to be lanced of any remaining infection. "That night, I snuck out of the house in the storm, because I thought the only way to save him was to jump off the dragon and have my wish granted. But I got lost, and I was stuck outside in the rain and wind for hours before they found me. So now, I can't... I can't..."

The strength of Merlin's voice finally shattered into thousands of pieces that lodged themselves deep within his throat and lungs. The slivers dug in a little more with each haggard breath, burning as painfully hot as the salty stinging in his reddened eyes. He was struggling so hard to keep himself together, to keep himself composed, even if his notes were warbling off-key.

But then Arthur's grip tightened around him, gently pushing his head down on a offered shoulder, and the taut bowstring of resolve snapped. Merlin buried himself in the fabric of Arthur's borrowed shirt, vaguely aware that it too grew damp under Merlin's tears. After the force of Merlin's crying began to subside, Arthur cleared his throat softly. "...I'm sorry...about your father..."

At the moment, Merlin would give anything to be in the rain again, at least to have the cooling water wash away the shame inflaming his face. He pulled back just slightly, wiping at his eyes and nose with the back of his hand. "...You don't believe me," he said slowly, each syllable hard to form without a twinge of ache, "about having a vision, do you?"

Any other time, the inner battle being waged inside Arthur would have been almost comical to watch as it played out on his expression. "...I believe something happened to you that no one should have to deal with," he finally offered, clipped and diplomatic. "Which is why I don't understand why you do crystal readings still."

"If I didn't, you probably wouldn't be here," Merlin blurted out. It was for reasons like that he had agreed to do them when Gaius first tentatively suggested it. Only so nothing like what had happened with Balinor would happen any more. Or at least not with Merlin fighting it every step of the way.

"Is that why?" Arthur said, seemingly reading his thoughts. "Why you were so determined to convince me to leave Ealdor, and why you kept trying to protect me even with how I treated you...was it all just because of what happened with your father?"

Merlin flinched. The way Arthur put it made Merlin's actions seem so cold and informal, even if the statement was partially true. "At first, yeah. But then I actually got to know you, and..." He swallowed deeply, the motion taking more effort than usual. "...and I couldn't bear the thought of losing you, either."

There was a sharp intake of breath as they stared silently at each other, like they were seeing each other for the first time. And maybe they were, or at least a little differently. For a moment, Merlin forgot about the storm, forgot all about the past. Arthur was right there, and that was all that currently mattered.

He was the one that made the first move by leaning forward, but was still surprised when his lips brushed against Arthur's. The contact was tentative and fleeting, and for a split second Merlin thought he had made a mistake. But then Arthur rose up to meet him, pressing their mouths firmly together, the touch tender and chaste.

It wasn't Merlin's first kiss, and he hoped it wouldn't be his last, especially not with Arthur. But he started to fear that was exactly the case when Arthur pulled away, and automatically Merlin started apologizing. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have--"

"No, Merlin, stop," Arthur said, stilling Merlin's hands from nervously flailing. "God, I've been wanting to do that for so long. But we still haven't really talked about everything I wanted to, and I don't want you to get the wrong idea about...my intentions or anything like that."

It was cute how flustered and proper Arthur was trying to be over everything, and Merlin stifled a weak chuckle. "It'll be okay," he said, recalling his mother's previous words. "We'll figure something out."

That seemed to appease Arthur somewhat, and he placed a hesitant kiss to Merlin's temple. "Come here," he said, scooting them back to lean against the side of the bed. He tugged off the downy comforter and draped it over their shoulders. "I know if I'm exhausted, you must be too. We can talk more in the morning."

It was then, while using Arthur for a makeshift pillow, that Merlin was able to drift off to sleep in the middle of a storm for the first time in years.

***

By the next morning, the skies over Ealdor had returned to their usual crystal shade blue, a sharp contrast to the dark, grey clouds they held the day before. The ground was still damp despite the sweltering heat from the sun beating mercilessly downwards, and the aroma of fresh rain and wet dirt lingered in the air. But besides a few downed trees (and snapped power lines), it seemed the storm had passed through and left the town reasonably unaffected.

And yet, Arthur's whole world had changed overnight.

When he woke up, he found Merlin curled up next to him, and Arthur found himself smiling at the sight. Like it was second nature, he ran his fingers through Merlin's hair gently, his smile widening as Merlin murmured in his sleep. Funny how the situation was so similar to the one of just a week or so ago, and how their circumstances had changed so drastically since then.

It was then that Arthur was struck with a surprising thought: he was no longer worried that Merlin would be a hindrance to Pendragon Suites coming to Ealdor. The idea became more and more ridiculous the longer Arthur thought about it.

However, he was absolutely terrified about the boundary they had crossed. It was like they were traveling into previously uncharted territory, leaving Arthur to stumble around without so much as a compass to guide him.

The reason Arthur didn't usually deal with relationships was because they always ended up poorly for him and the other party involved, and he had grown tired of dealing with the head and heartaches that followed. He knew he had hurt people, but few knew how much he himself grieved after every failed relationship as well. It's why he threw so much into his career, choosing to deal with the logical side of business and work rather the more frightening, emotional side of love and romance.

But Merlin was different somehow, and instead of struggling to figure out why, Arthur was willing to throw caution to the wind and let his heart lead over his head for once. When Merlin began to stir, rubbing his eyes with a sleepy smile, Arthur knew he made the right decision.

"Morning," Arthur said softly, his fingers leaving Merlin's hair to rub at his back. "How did you sleep?"

Merlin practically purred at Arthur's touch, stretching languidly against the ground. "Really good, actually," he mumbled, curling back around Arthur, still half-asleep. "Did anyone ever tell you what a great pillow you make?"

"Are you trying to suggest something, _Mer_ lin?" Arthur poked Merlin in the side, repeating the motion when Merlin jerked away with a laugh. "You better not be saying I'm fat."

"No, just...comfortable?" Merlin teased, his eyes twinkling with mirth as he glanced upwards. "It was the best sleep I've had in a long time actually."

"I wish I could say the same," Arthur groaned, feeling the kinks in his neck pop with a simple turn of his head. He jumped slightly when he suddenly felt Merlin’s hand press between the top of his shoulder blades, fingers working to massage away the knot that had formed there.

“...Thank you, by the way,” Merlin whispered, ducking his head bashfully. “For staying with me, I mean.”

The warmth from Merlin’s hand was spreading throughout Arthur, and he soon grew hyper aware of close their bodies were pressed together. “Well, of course I just wasn’t going to leave you like that,” Arthur said, his voice rougher than he intended. ”But you’re welcome.”

When seconds passed by and neither of them said anything else, Arthur chose that moment to act. He tilted his head, leaned in closer and--

His actions were interrupted by the loud ringing of the bells on the shop door downstairs, followed by Gaius calling up, "Merlin? Are you up there?"

"...J-Just a minute!" Merlin called back, blushing a bright shade of red. "Sorry," he said to Arthur as he pulled away. "He probably will want to check on me--"

"It's okay," Arthur said, the sound slightly strangled before he cleared his throat. "I should head back myself."

After a moment of hesitation, Merlin gave Arthur a shy kiss on the cheek in apology. "I'll see you later, right? Before your trip is over?"

The grave reality of the situation came crashing down. Arthur had all but forgotten his time in Ealdor was drawing to a close, and the pang of loss and longing in his chest took his breath away.

"Yeah," he mumbled, repeating himself to sound more convincing. "Yeah, definitely."

He watched Merlin leave the room, waiting a few minutes before going downstairs and letting himself out. There was no reason for him to be sneaking by while Merlin had his uncle distracted, but Arthur suddenly wasn't much for company, too preoccupied with his own thoughts.

Despite his guilt over Hunith and the bed and breakfast, he still wanted the plan for a Pendragon Suites in Ealdor to push forward; he and his team had worked too hard to give up on it now. But he was discovering that he wanted Merlin as well, and he couldn’t figure out how he could have both.

It wasn’t just Merlin’s connection to the bed and breakfast--even though Arthur was determined not to let the business flounder, it was still an awkward subject they had yet to fully discuss. But was it really fair to start something with Merlin when Arthur was leaving Ealdor by the end of the week? Could he really go back to his stressful job, his empty apartment, his whole damn life--and pretend that nothing happened?

He wracked his mind for answers, but all he received in the end was a splitting headache. One which was only acerbated when he finally returned to the bed and breakfast to find Morgana grinning gleefully at him from the front porch. "I see things went better than I expected. Is this a walk of shame, dear brother?"

"No, this is a walk of 'my clothes got ruined in the storm and I had to borrow ones that don't fit me'," Arthur sighed, in no mood to deal with her know-it-all attitude. "Nothing happened, and even it did, I wouldn't tell you."

Morgana pouted. "You're no fun. Leon's already told us the story of how Merlin saved you all. You can at least fill in the details."

"Speaking of which, is Father still here?" Arthur searched around, hardly able to imagine Uther spending the night in such a place. The Pendragon family household was too cold and stark to contain the same amount of cozy warmth found within the walls of Hunith's home.

"He left first thing this morning, saying he had been too long away from the office already," Morgana explained airily, joining Arthur as he made his way back to his room. "After I told him how helpful Merlin had been this past week, he wanted you to 'issue an apology' on his behalf. I didn't mention that Merlin was Hunith's son, of course."

"Of course." No doubt if Uther had discovered the relation between Merlin and "The Dragon's Call," he would have been as suspicious and paranoid as Arthur originally was. "Anything else?"

"Besides my ever-present but never heeded warning that you're slowly turning into him?"

"Morgana..." In the past, he might have considered that as a backhanded compliment, but now recognized how the possibility of becoming his father was as depressing as hell. "I meant anything important that I haven't heard already."

All humor disappeared from Morgana's tone in a flash. "...Leon went to check on the property a half hour ago. The road was still blocked, but there was already a crew working on the power line. He said he walked the rest of the way to find out that not only were there a few more fallen trees, but someone had also vandalized the place."

"Vandalized?" Arthur repeated, his hand freezing on the room's door knob. "What the hell do you mean by 'vandalized'?"

Morgana rolled her eyes. "I mean vandalized as in someone hiked up there and spray-painted everything, leaving a couple of very impolite messages behind."

Arthur glanced down the hall, checking if there was anyone listening into the conversation. He ushered Morgana into the room, making sure the door was properly shut before prompting her to continue. "What did they say?"

"Drivel like, 'Go away' and 'Fuck you, Pendragon'," Morgana rattled off nonchalantly, not even batting an eye at the vulgarity. "They probably left it before the storm, intending for you to find it after the press conference."

Arthur sank down on the edge of the bed, sighing in frustration. He expected the company to have some opposition in town, but it still didn't make it any easier to swallow. "Probably some kids, thinking they're funny. Nothing to really worry about though, right?" He saw Morgana still out of the corner of his eye. " _Right_ , Morgana? Or do you know something you're not telling me, per usual?"

"It's probably nothing." Morgana quickly thumbed through the buttons on her phone, not looking him in the eye. "Just be careful, okay? Just because the deal is going ahead as planned doesn't mean you'll be safe."

"Getting really tired of your secrets, Morgana," Arthur groaned as he flopped back on the bed.

"My job is made up of secrets. I'll tell you when I think you need to know." Morgana nudged at him playfully with her foot. "Come out with all of us tonight. We don't have much time left here, so it'd be nice to enjoy ourselves without having to worry about work. Of course Gwaine is the one that found out the bar in town has an emergency generator. "

Once again, the reminder that their trip was nearly over made Arthur's headache flare up, as well as his chest constrict painfully. "I'd rather eat shards of broken glass than deal with Gwaine and alcohol today."

"He's your _friend_ , Arthur. Besides, he's not so bad; I've learned such interesting stories about your past exploits thanks to him. As well as a few other things." Morgana leaned over to jab him in the side, smirking. "What if I invite Merlin to join us?"

Not wanting to admit how well she knew him, Arthur shoved her away as he sat up. "Fine, but I'm not staying long."

Morgana laughed knowingly, sidestepping the pillow Arthur threw at her as she left the room. As soon as she was gone, he scrambled off the bed to shower and get dressed before realizing it was still morning. He spent the rest of the day going over various papers, reading the same page four times until he conceded that his mind was tied up elsewhere.

He still showed up to the bar late, just to stubbornly prove a point to Morgana. But as soon as he stepped in the door, he had to wonder if he had made a mistake. The place was crammed full of people, the air hot and sticky as warm bodies mingled together. The lights were muted to put less strain on the generator but made it hard to clearly recognize anyone, shadows dancing over the spot where faces should have been. Mechanical humming from the generator was only drowned out by the snatches of multiple conversations being carried on at the same time.

It was only by luck that he bumped into Merlin, who was returning from the restroom, and automatically Arthur's hand shot out to grab his wrist. "Merlin!"

"Arthur! Morgana said you were coming, but it was getting late, so I thought..." Merlin trailed off, shifting on the balls of his feet. "It's okay that I'm here, right? Morgana invited me, but maybe I should have called you."

"Actually," Arthur rubbed at Merlin's pulse point, grinning when he felt it quicken under his thumb, "You're the only reason I decided to show up."

The brilliant smile Merlin rewarded him was encouraging, and Arthur tugged on Merlin's hand. "Come on, I want to talk to you."

They found an unoccupied section of wall that was relatively quiet compared to the rest of the bar, and suddenly Arthur considered how easy it would be to push Merlin up against it, their actions hidden in the shelter of the dark.

"...So..." Merlin's shaky voice cut through Arthur's obscene thoughts. "You said you wanted to talk to me...?"

Arthur shook his head in attempt to clear it. Damn, he was acting like he was a horny teenager, sixteen and on a first date all over again. "Er yeah," he said, swallowing once. "After everything, we didn't really get to talk about your mother. I wanted to know how she was handling everything."

That sounded so impersonal to Arthur's ears, so he hastily added, "Also, I promise I'll do anything I can to make sure the bed and breakfast will be kept running, even after Pendragon Suites opens its doors here."

Merlin studied Arthur closely, his expression a mixture of gratitude and amusement. "...Thank you, that means a lot. But it turns out she was planning on retiring soon anyways."

"'Retiring'," Arthur repeated incredulously as he exhaled the breath he had been holding. There was no way something in his life could resolve itself that easily, even if he had tried. "Really."

Merlin chuckled, throwing his hands up and looking just as surprised. "I know, I had no idea either. But apparently it's getting too much for her to run it by herself, even with Will's help. She likes making food and having people in the house, but that's it. Will's still pretty upset, but my mom just hopes this means he can find a job that pays him what he deserves."

Arthur made a note in the back of his head to research a retirement package for Hunith and job offers for Will. Anonymously of course, especially for the latter; he doubted Will would be the sort of person to accept any sort of charity or goodwill.

"So to answer your question, she's actually okay with the whole thing." Merlin paused, squirming slightly. "...Um, she might have also been the one to convince me to give you a second chance."

"God, I think I love your mother," Arthur said, letting out a relieved laugh. Just when he was about to swoop in to kiss Merlin, there was a sudden yank on his collar. He twisted around, finding himself face to face with the stormy expression of his sister. "Morgana, what the hell--"

"Arthur, remember when I said I'd tell you when you needed to know?" Morgana hissed, her eyes darting frantically around the room. "Well, you need to know. Now."

The fear in her eyes silenced any protest Arthur might have had, and he nodded wordlessly. He let himself be led to the back corner where the rest of the group had snagged a table, their conversation growing quiet when they saw him approach. Immediately his suspicions were raised by their behavior; even Gwaine was a bit solemn as he raised a hand in greeting. "Hey Princess, took you long enough."

"What's with everyone? I thought we were supposed to be celebrating," Arthur teased in attempt to break up the heavy atmosphere. He searched out Lance and Gwen, clasping their shoulders as he smiled down at them. "Congratulations to you two, by the way. I heard you're planning the wedding already?"

Gwen blushed and lowered her head while Lance wrapped an arm around her middle, pulling her in close. "We decided it was best not to wait."

Someone cleared their throat nervously behind him, and Arthur rolled his eyes. "Okay, can someone please tell me what is going on?"

"...I just told everyone else already, because I thought they had a right to know too. But this shouldn't leave the table," Morgana said as Gwaine gave her hand a comforting squeeze. "And I just want to start with saying that I'm sorry, I never meant for this to happen. I should have told you sooner, but I didn't want to worry you if it turned out to be nothing."

Arthur's stomach dropped to the soles of his shoes, his mind racing. "Meant for _what_ to happen? What are you talking about?"

"...I think I'm the reason your presence here was leaked early in the first place."

" _What_?" That didn't make any damn sense. Why would Morgana of all people be involved in a public debacle she had cleaned up herself? Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Care to explain, Morgana?"

There were a few seconds that passed by uncomfortably before Morgana spoke again. "About five months ago, I found out I had an older half-sister, from before my mother married Father. She had been living with relatives all this time, and I never knew about her until she got in contact with me."

Arthur frowned in confusion. "That's great, but what does that have to do with--"

"I'm getting there, hold on," Morgana sighed, rolling her eyes at his impatience before continuing, "Morgause and I never met in person, but emailed family pictures and stories to each other. We even started calling each other, until we were talking with each other at least once a day. I should have known better than to say anything to her about this trip, but she's my family, so I thought there wouldn't be a problem."

"Morgana," Arthur said, his voice barely above a low growl as he started to put the pieces together, "are you saying your sister has something to do with all this?"

Morgana closed her eyes, shaking her head. "I don't know. But I think her employer definitely does."

"Why would her employer--" As soon as Arthur started to ask the question, he stopped, already knowing the answer. "She works for Cenred, doesn't she?"

When Morgana didn't answer right away, Gwaine helpfully supplied the answer. "It turns out Miss 'Morgause le Fey' is actually the Vice President of Essetir Lodge."

"...What the fuck were you thinking?!" Arthur shouted at Morgana, too livid to keep his voice down. "What all did you tell her, Morgana?! What happened to 'my job is made up of secrets', huh?!"

The sound of Morgana's hand slapping Arthur's cheek reverberated through the air, causing people who were nearby to whirl their heads around and stare.

"Fuck you, Arthur," Morgana hissed through gritted teeth, her eyes glittering with tears. " I didn't know, okay? I had no idea who she worked for until I started having a bad feeling about everything and thought to do some more research. So I'm sorry, but my own sister _used_ me; I don't need _you_ to get pissed at me right now."

"...Morgana, wait, I'm sorr--" Arthur started to apologize, but Morgana just ignored him as she went into Gwaine's awaiting arms, the two of them going off together. The rest of the group gave Arthur looks of concern, which just made him feel worse. Yes, he had a right to be upset, but he should have known better than to think Morgana would betray him or the company on purpose.

"Arthur, are you okay?"

Shit, he didn't realize Merlin had been standing behind him the entire time. He absentmindedly rubbed at the sting of his cheek, forcing a grim smile."I'm fine, Merlin. ...Though do I have a concussion, or are Morgana and Gwaine actually _kissing_?"

"They're actually kissing, or something like that," Merlin said as he followed Arthur's line of gaze. Gwaine was running his hands up and down Morgana’s trembling form, kissing her gently as he whispered something that couldn’t be overheard by others, but was most likely his own brand of comforting words. Whatever was said, it seemed to help calm Morgana down, and Arthur didn’t know how he missed all the hints on how close the relationship between his sister and his friend had really become.

Merlin cleared his throat as he turned his attention back towards Arthur. "But what I meant was, what's going on? Who is Cenred? What's so horrible about knowing you’re here?"

"I don't really want to talk about it right now," Arthur sighed, wondering when the world of hotel management became so full of drama befitting a soap opera. "I just need to get some fresh air."

Honestly, he could have used some time alone to cool off and immerse himself in his thoughts. But as he pushed through the crowd for the exit, Arthur didn't object to Merlin tagging behind. As soon as he stepped through the back door and into the alleyway, Arthur basked in the feeling of the chilled night air hitting his heated face.

Only for the serene moment to be ruined as a fist flew out of nowhere, catching him right in the gut.

"Fancy seeing you here, Arthur," a male voice snarled as Arthur doubled over, gasping at the breath being knocked out of lungs. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

His arms wrapped protectively around his aching torso, Arthur raised his head and stared in disbelief at the person in front of him. "...Valiant? What the hell are you doing here?"

Valiant sneered, pushing up his sleeves and exposing his muscled arms, which were covered in grotesque snake tattoos. "What do you think? After you had your father fire me for 'unethical business practices,' I had to find a new employer."

Arthur took in the situation quickly; besides Valiant, there were four other men surrounding him, including one that was holding back a struggling Merlin. If he could distract them and hold his own long enough, Arthur might be able to give Merlin a chance to escape.

"Let me guess," Arthur spat, turning his focus back on Valiant. "Cenred."

Valiant smirked, gesturing to one of his men with a nod of his head. "I knew you'd figure it out. You were always too fucking smart for your own good."

A blow to the back of his head left Arthur reeling, trying to focus on the man who was cowardly enough to strike from behind.

"What, did you think we're going to fight fair?" Valiant said, barking out a coarse laugh. "You had your chance to leave when we first started rumors about you in town. But you were just too stubborn to take the hint, weren’t you?"

Arthur was ready the next time they attacked him; he ducked out of the way as another man swung wildly, Arthur's years of boxing in college finally paying off as he struck back. The man let out a yelp, holding his nose as blood coursed down his face.

"Hold him down!" Valiant roared to the other two men, who swarmed over Arthur like vultures over a wounded animal. If he hadn't been still slightly dazed from the earlier blows, he might have been able to take them on. As it was, he still managed to get in a few well-aimed punches and kicks before he was forced to his knees, his arms pinned behind his back. Blood ran from a cut in his brow, stinging as it went into his eyes, but that didn't stop him from glaring at Valiant fiercely. "What do you want, Valiant?"

"Cenred wants you out of the picture, and doesn't care how it's done anymore." Valiant grinned, flicking out a switchblade, its ornate metal handle covered with hissing serpents. "But me? This is just just a little bit of fun payback."

"Leave him alone!" Merlin yelled, wincing when the man gripping him twisted his arm back into an unnatural position.

"Merlin," Arthur said calmly as he tried not to view the situation as completely hopeless, "Merlin, listen to me. Get away from here, okay?"

"Will you two shut up?" Valiant snapped, swinging the blade in Arthur's direction. Unconsciously, Arthur closed his eyes, bracing for the pain he would experience once the knife sliced into his skin.

It never came. Instead, there was hoarse screaming and the sound of metal clattering to the ground. Arthur's eyes popped back open to find Valiant holding his one hand with the other, the skin looking like it had been badly burned. The switchblade was sizzling at his feet, the handle glowing red hot as if it had been recently heated in a kiln.

"Fuck!" Valiant swore, sinking to the ground as the angry, raw skin continued to ooze and blister. "What the fuck?"

A heavy trash bin soared through the air, catching one of the men right in the temple, knocking him down. The other let out a shout of surprise as he was dragged backwards by an invisible hand, his body slamming to the pavement.

It was all happening so fast, Arthur could hardly keep up with what was going on. He couldn't tell who was attacking, if they were friend or foe, but he really didn't care to find out. He rose to his feet, his injuries impeding him as he searched around. Merlin, he had to make sure Merlin was okay--

There was a yowl of agony as the man that had been restraining Merlin fell into Arthur's vision, rolling around as he clutched at his arm.

And Merlin stood over him, his hand splayed out, eyes burning molten gold.

***

When Merlin first started to entertain the idea of revealing his magic to Arthur, he had planned to do it discreetly. It would just be the two of them, in a private location, safely tucked away from prying eyes. He would have rehearsed a carefully worded speech, gently easing Arthur into the idea.

The original plan never involved him going "...Oh _shit_!" afterwards, and there was _definitely_ no mention of the police being called.

One of the bar patrons had finally heard the commotion outside, and fear began to claw angrily at Merlin's insides as a whirlwind of people stormed the alleyway, surrounding and separating him from Arthur.

He actually came close to passing out when the police cars and ambulances arrived, the sirens screaming in his ears and the flashing lights leaving black spots in his vision. He barely remembered someone forcing him down into a chair just as the strength in his legs gave out, murmurs of, "he might be in shock," not even registering in his mind.

As an emergency technician checked him over, a police officer started asking Merlin various questions about what occurred, and he soon found himself repeating, "No, I've never seen them before, they attacked us first, no, I don't know how he was burned, or who threw a trash can, I don't know, I didn't see anything, I don't know, I don't know, _I don't know_."

After it had been carefully determined Merlin wasn’t suffering from shock but was simply overwhelmed by the events that had transpired, the officer gave him a business card with instructions to call if he remembered anything else. A blanket was draped over Merlin's shoulders, and except for an emergency crew member checking on him and his vitals every now and then, he was generally left alone. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself as he stood, watching as the men who attacked Arthur were led away in handcuffs and put in a police car--with the exception of Valiant, who had been rushed to a prison hospital for first and second-degree burns.

While he knew the man had intended to seriously hurt or even kill Arthur, Merlin felt nauseous about what he had done. He had never struck out against another human being before, even in self-defense. But the thought of Arthur being injured, unable to defend himself, _worrying about Merlin’s safety over his own_ \--something had snapped deep within Merlin, and he had reacted without considering the consequences.

The memory of Valiant's screams and the stench of burning flesh finally did make him vomit, causing one of the paramedics nearby to rush over in alarm. He tried to wave them off with an assurance that he was okay, bracing himself against the side of one of the emergency vehicles as he emptied the contents of his stomach. But they still made him sit afterwards, giving him a glass of water while keeping him under close observation.

There was suddenly a gentle hand rubbing the small of his back, and he froze; for a split second, he hoped it was Arthur. But the touch was too soft, too delicate, and he weakly turned his head. "...Gwen?"

Gwen gave him a sympathetic smile, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. "Merlin, are you okay? Sorry, that was a stupid question, of course you’re not okay. What I meant was, are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?"

"I'm sure," he said, forcing a smile for her benefit. "Just a little shaken up is all, but I’ll be fine. How's Arthur?"

She turned her gaze to the back of the other ambulance where Arthur sat, wearing a blanket that matched Merlin's. An EMT was placing a bandage on the cut above Arthur's brow while the officer from before jotted down notes in a book, no doubt asking Arthur the same questions.

Merlin shuddered at the thought of what Arthur could be saying, because he knew Arthur had discovered the truth. Arthur had watched Merlin's eyes change from gold back to blue, had watched Merlin drop his hand, had watched panic fill Merlin’s face...

And had turned his back on Merlin without a word.

That hurt more than anything, and Merlin squeezed his eyes shut before he realized Gwen was speaking.

"--refuses to go to the hospital as well, because you know Arthur. They still want someone to observe him for a few hours though.” Gwen’s voice became breathy and higher-pitched the more she rambled on, “I've been trying to get a hold of Morgana and Gwaine, but neither of them have been answering their phones since they left the bar a little after you two did. Leon and Percy went to look for them a few minutes ago, so Lance and I are probably going to take turns staying up with Arthur--"

"I'll watch him." The words tumbled out of Merlin's mouth before he could truly grasp the weight of what he said.

Gwen studied him cautiously, biting on her bottom lip. "Are you sure? You look like you need someone to watch over you yourself."

"I'll be fine," Merlin said, hoping if he repeated it enough times, it would eventually come true. "Please, Gwen. You and Lance should try to enjoy the rest of your night."

"...If you're really sure." Gwen hugged him, being careful not to embrace him too tightly. "Take care of him for me, Merlin. For all of us, because he won't take care of himself."

 _I'm trying,_ Merlin thought as he returned the hug, _but I don't know if he'll let me any more._

After the commotion died down and people returned to what they were previously doing before the disturbance, Merlin hesitantly approached Arthur, wringing his hands together. But before he could say anything, Arthur fixed him with a blank stare.

"Merlin, go home," he said flatly. "I don't want to give your mother or uncle any more reason to worry about you."

The fear inside Merlin tripled, rattling against the bars of his ribcage. "Um, will you come with me? I wanted to talk. About things."

Arthur snorted, but didn't say anything else as he looked away. Merlin took that as a sign that he might still have a chance to explain, that Arthur hadn't shut him out completely.

Even though the shop was only a block away from the bar, a cab was still called to pick them up. Merlin was thankful for it, because he didn't think either of them could walk far distances at the moment. Even if the silent trip back was one of the most excruciating experiences in his life.

The cab driver could have asked for an exorbitant fee when he dropped the two of them off, and Merlin would have paid it without thinking twice. After he stepped out of the vehicle, Merlin approached the shop, fumbling for his keys. As he pushed the door open and flipped on the lights, he was aware of Arthur watching his every move.

"Where's your uncle?"

Merlin dropped the keys in surprise and then cursed at himself for being so jumpy. "Um, he has this friend--she's probably the closest thing I have to an aunt even though they never got married, but they go on these dates every now and then... Do you want something to drink? I can get us a soda, or something stronger, but oh no, you probably shouldn't be drinking right now--"

"Merlin, stop."

Merlin had already started walking to the kitchen and halted mid-step at the tone of Arthur's voice. Not sure if he wanted to look, he turned nevertheless to face Arthur. He was expecting anger or revulsion, but Arthur's expression was completely devoid of emotion.

And that in itself was terrifying, because Merlin had no idea what Arthur was currently thinking.

"It was you...wasn't it?" Arthur asked quietly, even though they both knew the answer. "What happened tonight, to Valiant and the others. It was you."

Bile once again rose up in Merlin's throat. "Yes," he replied, for there was no reason for him to lie, not anymore. Not to Arthur. "Yes, it was me."

Arthur looked startled, as if he hadn’t expected Merlin to agree so readily. But just as quickly as it appeared, the shock vanished, replaced again with the stone-walled expression. "How?"

"I have magic," Merlin said, cutting straight to the point. When he heard Arthur scoff, he stepped forward, determined to make Arthur believe him. "No really, I was born with it. I'm trying to learn how to control it better, but sometimes it just acts on its own. Especially when I'm trying to protect you."

Arthur still looked incredulous, and Merlin was just about to give a demonstration when realization dawned over Arthur's features. "The dog. I always wondered how come I didn't see you move."

Merlin nodded slowly, remembering how upset he had been over the animal's death, even if it had been rabid with little to no hope of being cured. He would forever be grateful for Arthur's help when they recovered the body a day afterwards, burying it in a shallow grave in his mother’s backyard, unmarked with the exception of the pile of pebbles on top of it. "I really didn't want to, I just wanted to stop it. ...I also did this."

He raised a hand, his resolve faltering slightly when he saw Arthur flinch as he neared. "I'm still not that great with healing spells, but..."

A golden shimmer spread over Arthur's eyebrow as Merlin mumbled the words to an incantation under his breath. He repeated the motion for the soreness in Arthur's head and stomach, feeling like he had made the right choice when he saw some of the tension melt away from Arthur's rigid shoulders.

With a shaking hand, Arthur pulled away the bandage from his brow, revealing pink but healing tissue underneath. His fingers gingerly brushed over it, awe flickering in his eyes. "When I woke up that morning, I thought you had done something to my injuries, but I couldn't figure out what or how."

Merlin took a step back, letting his arms drop to his sides. "I would have healed them completely, but like I said, I'm still learning. Plus, I couldn’t really explain how you were fully healed without telling you the truth, now could I?"

Arthur poked and prodded at the rest of his body before looking back at Merlin. "What else have you done?"

Merlin winced at the accusation in Arthur's choice of words, trying to focus on the underlying curiosity they held instead. "The...the pier, I think. When I jumped in after you, my magic protected us from the impact." He didn't mention how his magic had also helped locate Arthur many times, not when he didn't quite understand it himself yet. "...Oh, and when the car jumped the curb. I kind of slowed down time so I could pull you out of the way. But that's it, really."

When Arthur didn't respond after that and once again turned away, the fear inside Merlin broke free and roared to the surface. "Arthur, please," Merlin pleaded as he stepped forward. "I don't know if you believe me, or if you think I'm some sort of freak, but I swear I've been trying to protect you this whole time--"

"Merlin--"

"I know, maybe I should have told you sooner, and I wanted to, but I just couldn't think of the right time, and I'm sorry--"

"Merlin--"

"Please don't hate me," Merlin whispered, his entire body starting to tremble violently as the panic continued to pour out of him. "Please, please, please don't hate me. And oh god, I understand if you told the police, but--"

"Merlin, you _idiot_." Arthur's hands were suddenly gripping on to Merlin's arms, giving them a good shake when Merlin tried to pull away. "Will you just shut up and listen to me?"

Merlin stopped babbling as he finally saw the alarm and concern in Arthur's widened eyes, but he couldn't let himself grow hopeful just yet. "...Arthur?"

"You idiot," Arthur repeated as he wrapped his arms around Merlin's neck, hugging him tightly. "You damn idiot."

"...But I don't..." Merlin mumbled as he hesitantly clung back, afraid if he let go, Arthur would suddenly disappear as part of some sort of cruel trick. "I thought..."

Arthur pulled back gently, holding Merlin's flushed face between his hands, his thumb wiping away some of the tears. "Merlin, you _saved_ me. Why the hell would I hate you?"

Merlin's knees chose that moment to give out underneath him, and he crumbled against Arthur, letting out soft sobs of relief. He tried to muffle them by lowering his face against Arthur's chest, the shirt fabric bunching underneath his hands.

"I'm sorry," Arthur murmured, pressing his lips against Merlin's temple as the two of them sank together down to the ground. "I should have believed you when you told me. I'm sorry if I made you--God, Merlin, you just keep on surprising the hell out of me, and I just didn't know what to think. But thank you, for everything. I believe you now, I believe you."

Sniffling, Merlin pushed back to give him a watery smile. "T-Took you long enough," he croaked.

Arthur rolled his eyes fondly. "Yeah, well, you can say, 'I told you so' later." He raised them both to their feet, steadying Merlin's wobbly stance. "Right now, I'm taking you upstairs to rest. You should probably use some of that magic on yourself, because you look horrible."

"Ass," Merlin chuckled weakly as he let Arthur lead him upstairs, starting to feel a little bit better. His whole body was stiff, and there was a sour taste in his mouth from when he was sick, but he started to feel the stress peel back from his body every time he bumped shoulders with Arthur.

When they reached the top landing, he bypassed his bedroom at first, leaving Arthur's grasp to make a beeline for the bathroom. He splashed water on his eyes and face and quickly brushed his teeth, flushing slightly when he opened the door and found Arthur hovering in the hallway.

"You okay?" Arthur asked, guilt seeping into his features. "I was just joking about using your magic on yourself, but can you even do that?"

Merlin rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. "I don't know, I've never really tried it. But I used a lot of it earlier anyway, so..."

"Come on then." Arthur wrapped his fingers around Merlin's wrist, opening the bedroom door with his other hand. "You should get some sleep."

The prospect of curling up into his nice, warm bed was tempting, but Merlin remembered the promise he made Gwen. "But I'm supposed to be watching over you because of your head," he whined as Arthur pushed him closer to the mattress.

"You took care of that, remember?" Arthur grinned as he gestured to his newly healed brow. "Bed, Merlin."

Not needing any more coercion, Merlin flopped down face first on to his comforter, his feet hanging over the side. There was a low rumble of laughter from Arthur, and soon Merlin's sneakers were being unlaced and dropped to the floor. "Honestly," Arthur sighed in mock exasperation, "magic or not, it's a wonder you survived on your own this long."

Merlin rolled over, propping himself on an elbow as he beamed at Arthur. "I thought that's why I have you now." The realization of what he said hit seconds later, leaving him mortified at admitting something so personal so soon. "Um, I mean..."

After taking his own shoes off, Arthur knelt on the edge of the bed as he bent over Merlin. "Yeah," he said as he brushed his lips against Merlin's, "you do."

"Arthur," Merlin whispered before their mouths crashed into each other. The kiss was needy and desperate, as if they both realized how close they had come to losing each other that night, the residual fear spurring on their actions. Merlin's hands were soon scrambling down Arthur's back, trying to pull him in closer, and Arthur's weaved themselves through Merlin's hair as he complied with the silent request.

"You have no idea," Arthur said huskily, moving his mouth down to suck at Merlin's jawline, "no idea how badly I've wanted you."

Merlin let out a little murmur of agreement, tilting his head back to give Arthur better access to his neck. He was rewarded when Arthur sucked at the skin so hard bruises would form later, marking Merlin as his, his, _his_.

"Or maybe you do," Arthur added, his breath hot and heavy in Merlin's ear as he nipped gently at the lobe. "Have you seen it already? Did you already have a vision of me doing this, about what I plan to do to you?"

"Arthur..." Merlin cried softly, squirming as Arthur rolled them over and he was pinned underneath. He could already feel evidence of Arthur's desire rubbing against his leg through the denim, the firmness and length rivaling his own.

"Well, have you?" Arthur asked, traveling down lower, tracing invisible patterns with his tongue, teeth grazing tender spots every now and then. "Do you already know that I'm not planning for you to leave this bed any time soon?"

Merlin shook his head, his breathing already growing labored from the combination of what Arthur was doing and saying. "Arthur...Arthur, please..."

Arthur chuckled as he returned to kiss at Merlin's swelling lips, the act open-mouthed and messy. "Good," he said between sucking at Merlin's fleshy bottom lip, his hands pushing in between them to sneak under Merlin's shirt. "I want this to be a surprise."

They separated just long enough for Arthur to pull Merlin's shirt completely off, throwing it somewhere in the room before lowering his head down. His fingers played with Merlin's nipples, giving them a tweak, then doing it again when Merlin let out a sharp cry. Arthur's mouth nibbled its way down Merlin's chest, stopping every now and then to pay special attention to certain areas. Merlin was left panting from it all, his hands close to tearing Arthur's shirt apart until it was removed as well.

He almost felt inadequate when comparing Arthur's body to his, but Arthur halted those thoughts quickly as he ran his hand over the line of dark, coarse hair at Merlin's navel. "You're so beautiful. You know, when I first saw you, I thought you were something special. There was just something about you that drew me in, no matter how much I fought it."

"'m not," Merlin mumbled, moaning as Arthur palmed the bulge in his jeans. "I'm...I’m just.."

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," Arthur finished, his tone wavering with genuine emotion. He quickly worked at Merlin's zipper, groaning when Merlin automatically pushed upwards against his hand in search of friction. "God, Merlin. I was such an ass to you, such an idiot for not telling you the truth--"

"Shh, less talking," Merlin interrupted, not wanting to have the discussion just yet, not when the urge to ask Arthur to stay in Ealdor was on the tip of his tongue. He wriggled his hips to try and get his point across, arching his back as Arthur pushed his unbuttoned jeans and boxers down together. His cock sprang forward, pre-come already beading at the slit, and Merlin let out a whine as Arthur ran a tentative finger over the head.

Arthur took Merlin’s hardened length in his hand and began to stroke, the pace slowly building over time. Merlin draped an arm over his face, embarrassed by how he gasped and whimpered every time Arthur twisted his wrist as his fingers reached the tip. If Arthur kept doing that, Merlin wasn’t going to last for much longer, so he grasped at Arthur's shoulders and tried to lift him back him up.

As soon as Arthur was close enough, Merlin pushed up to kiss at him hungrily, holding him in place with a hand on the back of his neck. "Arthur..." he said as he gulped for air, feeling himself start to tense up as Arthur continued to stroke him. "Arthur, I need-- _fuck!_ \--I need you. Please."

With a growl, Arthur pulled away to remove Merlin's clothes the rest of the way before doing the same with his own. Fishing through the pocket of his jeans, he threw a few foil packets on the bed, and Merlin blushed. "...You're actually prepared?"

"I told you, I only came to the bar to see you." Arthur grinned before tearing one of the smaller packets open with his teeth, coating his fingers liberally with lube. He knelt down between Merlin's legs, circling the tight ring of muscle before pushing one finger in.

Merlin hissed at the burn; he wasn't a virgin, but it had been awhile since he was involved with anyone. Arthur was gentle though, working him open slowly until the burn turned pleasurable. Another finger was soon added, and then another, until Merlin felt so full he was trembling. Arthur's fingers scissored inside of him, then curled up to press against his prostate, and Merlin had to squeeze the base of his cock to stop himself from coming. "Fuck! Arthur, please!"

Even though he asked for it, Merlin felt empty when Arthur's fingers were removed. Arthur cursed as he fumbled with the condom, finally managing to slide it on over his cock before lining the tip up with Merlin's entrance. "You ready?"

Not even bothering with an answer, Merlin shifted forward, whimpering slightly at the stretch as Arthur entered him. Arthur held back from pushing in all at once, instead going inch by inch, until he was completely seated within Merlin.

"Arthur, move already," Merlin said through gritted teeth, his hands clenching at the comforter. " _Move_."

"You're so impatient," Arthur teased even as he wrapped Merlin's legs around his waist, starting to thrust inwards with a steady rhythm.

Merlin could feel his balls tighten, signaling he was close to climaxing already. But then Arthur lifted his hips upwards as he drove forcefully inside, his cock hitting Merlin's prostrate, and Merlin cried out as he came all over his stomach and chest with thick, white spurts. Arthur thrust a few more times before he stilled with a grunt, his own orgasm overtaking him.

As Merlin basked in the afterglow, his magic suddenly surged out of him, surrounding them both in a golden haze while humming happily. Arthur was in the middle of pulling out when he froze, raising an eyebrow. "...Is that..?"

Merlin blinked in surprise. No one else had been able to actually sense his magic physically manifest itself before. "Um, yeah. It kind of likes you...I think."

Arthur chuckled as he tugged off the condom, tying it in a knot before tossing it in a nearby trash bin. "I think I felt it before, when I first met you," he said, leaning down and pressing his tongue at one of the marks he had left on Merlin's neck earlier. "What about you, Merlin? Do you like me?"

"I think that should be pretty obvious by now," Merlin snorted, shoving at Arthur playfully. "But yes, I like you, ass."

" I like you too," Arthur murmured as he drew lazy circles on Merlin's chest with a fingernail. "I also like how apparently the sex was so good, you made the bed levitate."

"...What?" Merlin looked over the edge of the mattress to confirm that the bed frame was indeed hovering centimeters above the ground. It floated back down a few seconds later, and Merlin covered his face, cheeks flushed deep red. "That has never happened before."

"Really?” Arthur grinned wickedly, pulling Merlin's hands away to kiss at the corner of his mouth. "Because I plan on making it happen again.”

***

A part of Arthur wondered how he could stay so calm over what happened. In the span of a single night, he found out about his sister's connections to a man who had apparently hired people willing to attack him just to make a point. Not to mention the fact that Merlin had saved him yet again, and had been using magic to do so all along.

If Arthur hadn't seen the evidence for himself, he would still have his doubts. There were probably people that would explain the events with long, drawn out plans on how everything worked, and at one time he would have joined them in their logical theories on the subject. But looking back on everything, magic seemed to be the less complicated answer, and actually started to make sense. Which was definitely a thought he never imagined he would ever have.

Then again, he realized that had been happening to him a lot recently, thoughts popping into his head that never would have occurred to him before. Like how he went from despising Ealdor to loving the quirks and charms of the town he used to ridicule. Or how he could see how underhanded he was in his job (under the excuse that it was "just business") once he stepped back and saw how it could actually hurt people.

Like how he went from trying to distance himself from Merlin to wanting the both of them to spend every waking moment together.

Arthur smiled softly as he glanced down at Merlin, who was curled up in his arms fast asleep and slightly snoring. The twin bed barely held enough room for the two of them, and Arthur had quickly learned of Merlin's unconscious tendency to hog the blanket. But in its simple domesticity, it was one of the most perfect moments of Arthur's life, and he didn't want it to end.

He didn't want the _whole_ trip to end; he didn't want to leave Ealdor, leave the friends he made, leave _Merlin_. The night's events had painted his choices very clearly: either return to his lonely, empty life, to a job so stressful that it could also literally be the death of him, or stay where he had felt the most peace in years and find his own path, out from underneath his father's shadow and expectations thrust upon him.

Even if he and Merlin didn't work out in the end (he kept having to remind himself that they had only met less than two weeks ago, and part of that time they had disliked each other), Arthur could finally make the decision he had been struggling with: he was going to find a way to stay in Ealdor. Either he would actually step down from his position in the company, or maybe take a sabbatical. He could already picture dealing with Uther's frothing rage at hearing the news, and started to plan for it accordingly.

But despite the hardships he might face, the longer Arthur weighed the option, the more it just seemed indescribably right. Something inside him clicked into place, like the final piece to a puzzle that had eluded him for some time.

Excitement like he had never felt before bubbled up within him, and he was overwhelmed with the urge to wake Merlin up right there and then so they could discuss the idea. But Arthur caught himself when he noticed the beginnings of dark circles under Merlin's eyes. While they hadn't gone into a full explanation about the mechanics of magic, Arthur had already guessed that it put a strain on Merlin, both physically and emotionally. No wonder Merlin always complained about Arthur being too early of a riser whenever they went for a morning run.

So instead of waking him up, Arthur pulled him closer and placed a light kiss on his forehead, grinning when Merlin sighed in contentment. Even though Arthur was wide awake, he wouldn't be adverse to spending the morning in bed. Nor the rest of the day for that matter.

The ringing of his cell phone threatened those plans, and Arthur groaned. There was nothing more that he would like to do than ignore it, but he recognized the ring-tone he had assigned Morgana, and knew she would be relentless in trying to contact him. He tried to slip out of bed quietly to search for where he put his phone, but his wrist was suddenly caught between long, slender fingers.

"Don't go," Merlin murmured, his eyelids fluttering. He clung to Arthur's arm desperately, trying to tug him back under the covers. "Please don't go."

Arthur's expression softened, and he gently began to detach himself from Merlin's grip. "If I don't answer it, she'll just keep calling. Go back to sleep, I won't be long."

Merlin let a mumbled protest before relinquishing his hold, curling up in the warmth left by Arthur's body. Shaking his head fondly at the scene, Arthur left the room, the door clicking shut behind him before he answered the phone. "Not the best time, Morgana. If this is some sort of payback for earlier, I was trying to tell you I'm sorry--"

"I apologize if this is an inconvenient time for you, but I'm thinking you'd be interested in what I have to say right now, Mr. Pendragon," an unfamiliar male voice answered, bemused. "Or can I call you Arthur?"

Instantly Arthur's hackles were raised, alarm bells sounding off in his head. Morgana never let anyone borrow her cell phone, not even family members, just because there was too much sensitive information on it. She had once gone so far to say that the only way for someone to get a hold of it was to pry it from her cold, dead fingers.

Ice water coursed through Arthur's veins as he struggled to keep his voice calm. "Who is this?"

There was a chuckle, followed by some background noise Arthur couldn't quite decipher. "I know your father and his work, but you and I haven't actually met, have we? Shame, I think it's important to know one's competition."

That clued Arthur into the stranger's identity immediately, even though he had never spoken to the man before in his life. "Cenred." He spat the name out, as if it left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. "Is this some sort of sick joke?"

The noises on the end of the line grew louder, like the sounds of someone struggling and then being smacked. Arthur bristled when he thought he recognized the resounding cry as coming from Morgana. "What do you want, Cenred?"

"I have a business proposition for you," Cenred explained, his tone nonplussed. "But before you say anything, let me give you a little incentive."

Arthur thought he lost the connection for a second, but then he heard Morgana's wavering voice. "A-Arthur? Is that you?"

"Morgana!" Arthur clenched the phone in his hand, fury washing over him. To hear his usually tough-as-nails sister sound so terrified unnerved the living hell out of him. "Morgana, are you okay? What happened?"

"The damn bastard jumped us when we were heading back to the room," Morgana snarled, some of her normal fiery spark returning. "The fucking coward, he hit Gwaine from behind and knocked him out, then started waving a gun in my face, instead of fighting like a real ma--Ahh!"

Morgana's ranting was interrupted by the sickening crunch of knuckles connecting with flesh and bone, and then Cenred was speaking again. "Your sister has quite a mouth on her, doesn't she?"

"Don’t you dare touch her again, or I swear I'll fucking kill you," Arthur growled, his whole body shaking with anger. "Now, tell me what you fucking want."

Cenred sighed dramatically. "Let's not do this over the phone, shall we? Meet me at the Dragon Cliffs in half an hour and we'll talk then. But if I find out you tell anyone where you're going, your sister is dead."

"Arthur, no!" Morgana called out, her voice slurred as if her jaw was broken. "He's just going to kill you when you get here--"

There was a crack similar to before, then silence. "...I mean it Arthur," Cenred warned after the eerie pause. "No cops, nothing. Come alone, and don't be late."

The line went dead, and Arthur stared at the phone dumbly. Situations like this happened in the movies, never in real life--or so he always thought. But it _was_ happening to him, right now, and he had to do _something_ about it.

He stepped back into the bedroom, scrambling to gather up his clothes in his haste to redress. His eyes landed on Merlin's sleeping form, and Arthur froze as his mind whirled with possibilities. If Merlin was with him, maybe he could save Morgana, maybe he could...

As soon as the thought popped in his head, Arthur shot it down. For one thing, Cenred had said to tell no one else, and Arthur couldn't take any chances with Morgana's well-being at stake. Despite his calm demeanor of speaking, Cenred seemed to be a volatile person, likely to lash out as soon as he spotted another person with Arthur. Who knew if Arthur could reach Morgana in time, even with Merlin using his magic?

Also, Merlin wasn't just a tool Arthur could use when he happened to need it. He couldn't put Merlin at risk as well, or at least more than he had already. Just because Merlin had magic didn't mean he was invincible; he would probably foolishly put himself in danger to save others.

No, Arthur would comply with Cenred's demands. Because even though he didn't know proper protocol for a situation like this (when did being cutthroat in business become so literal? He was used to smear campaigns and behind the scenes buyouts, not hired thugs and kidnapping), it wasn't anyone's responsibility but his own. No matter what the cost.

Something lodged painfully in Arthur's throat when he realized this could really be the last time he saw Merlin. He was hoping the outcome of the meeting would be in his favor, but he had never bargained with a gun-wielding maniac before.

Maybe Merlin had been right in his vision; maybe Arthur _would_ die the longer he stayed in Ealdor. If only Arthur had believed him sooner.

But he didn't regret not listening to the prediction, didn't regret staying in the town he had grown to love. He only hated that Morgana, Merlin, and others had to be involved because of his accidental selfishness.

He swallowed deeply as he watched Merlin's chest rise and fall with each breath, wanting to ingrain the simple image in his memory. "Hey," he whispered, acting as nonchalant as possible, "I have to go pick Morgana up. But I'll...I'll be back later, okay?"

When Merlin didn't respond, Arthur leaned down to confess quiet sentiments, not caring if it was too soon in their relationship to say them. When Merlin made a murmur that sounded like agreement, Arthur smiled, rapidly blinking back tears before leaving the room.

The cool crispness of the morning air hit Arthur's face and sharpened his senses as soon as he stepped outside. Even if the streets weren't devoid of activity at such an early time of day, he still wouldn't have bothered in hailing a cab, deeming the action too risky and time-consuming. He would travel on foot, knowing the distance wasn't too great when he could make out the dragon's silhouette against the overcast skies before the day's proper dawn.

Despite its popularity and being the main attraction of the town, Arthur had only been up to the Dragon Cliffs once, and that was when he was dragged along by the others who wanted to see it just to say they had been there. He admitted that the sculpture was quite awe-inspiring once he got closer--the level of detail the unknown artist had put into the dragon’s scaly face alone must have taken months. But he didn't quite understand why someone would go through all that trouble and danger just to carve a dragon of all things.

But even if he didn't see the allure, he could still remember the road and path they took to get there. He had been running the whole way, but when he checked the time and saw how many minutes had passed, he had doubled then tripled his pace until his muscles and lungs started to burn. His phone had rung a few times along the way, and he saw from the caller ID that Merlin must have finally woken up and wondered where Arthur had went. He denied the first call, then switched his phone completely off, the guilt of the action turning his stomach.

As soon as he burst into the spot designated for sightseeing, Arthur searched around for any sign of life. The possibility that Cenred had been lying about the meeting location began to gnaw away at him, and against his better judgment he shouted, "I'm here! Where the hell are you?!"

A muffled moan caught his attention, and there was Morgana sitting on the ground, slumped against the guardrail she was tied to. Arthur rushed to her side, taking in her haggard appearance: her eye was swollen shut, her lip busted with dried blood on her chin, and her jaw already mottled with bruising.

Arthur seethed at the sight, taking the makeshift gag out of her mouth. “Morgana, where is he?”

“I didn’t think you’d actually show up.”

Arthur whirled around, coming face-to-face with the man he recognized only from the occasional newspaper photo. Cenred looked to be only a few years older than Arthur, and there had been many comments and rumors in the media about a man so young being the head of a major company. That was even before the public caught wind of Cenred's questionable business scruples, and the gun currently in his hand just reaffirmed he was not a contender to take lightly.

"Cenred, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Arthur roared, his temper getting the best of him. "All of this for a fucking hotel in a town no one knows about? Are you insane?"

"You have your way of doing business, I have mine," Cenred explained as he neared, gesturing between Arthur and Morgana with the gun. "But you're wrong. I don't even care about the hotel. In fact, I’ve grown to loathe this business, but it certainly makes a good cover."

There was probably some police officer or intrepid reporter who would be eager for Cenred to go into more detail, but Arthur didn't give a damn at the moment. "Then why the hell did you go through all this?"

"Because as much as I despise them, I need to keep those locations open for my other business ventures, which I can’t do if your father and his company keep trying to shut down me down.” Cenred’s lips twisted into a sneer at the confusion on Arthur’s face. “You probably didn’t know that, did you? You father probably thinks he’s so clever, that I wouldn’t figure out how a lot of ‘anonymous tips’ about safety hazards and health violations at Essetir Lodges were actually made by private investigators on Pendragon Suites’s payroll. The final straw was him sending you into my territory and trying to take what's _mine_."

Cenred paused then frowned, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "You're not an easy man to convince, are you? Didn't you ever wonder why you seemed more accident prone than usual? I have to say, falling off a pier and nearly being hit with a car, all on top of your presence being leaked early? Either you're really stubborn, or really stupid."

Arthur took a step back as the truth seeped in, staring at Cenred in disbelief. "That was you too? And then you sent Valiant and his men after me?"

Cenred just grinned, though anger flashed briefly in his eyes. "You are one hard man to scare," he said, pausing for effect before he added nonchalantly, "oh, Valiant's dead by the way. Accidental overdose at the hospital of his pain medication. Don't think the others are much better off. Last I heard, the police van carrying them lost control on the road and flipped. Shame, isn't it?"

The underlying message in Cenred's words was clear: the number of people connecting Cenred to Ealdor had substantially diminished, and would probably go down by two more if he had his way.

"I can tell by your face that you've figured it out," Cenred said, his grin spreading wider. "You see, I have no problem with getting what I want, including my own access to information about the infamous Pendragon Suites itself. It was almost too easy to get information out of her, until she had to ruin the partnership by being disagreeable, didn't she?"

Morgana flinched, straining at the bonds Arthur didn't have a chance to undo. "You bastard, I wasn't doing it for you! Arthur, I'm sorry, I--"

"You didn't know," Arthur finished for her, giving her a sympathetic smile. "Truth is, if it was me, I would probably have done the same thing."

"Of course you would have," Cenred interjected, rolling his eyes. "It's why you came here after all, you idiot."

Instinctively Arthur stepped in front of Morgana, sheltering her with his body. "Why are we here, Cenred? I'm sure you didn't direct us out here to see the sights."

"Actually, that's it exactly. Here's the plan: Morgana, feeling guilty after betraying her family's company by leaking private information, drunkenly decides to come up here and jump off the cliffs." Cenred gestured to the cliff behind him with a toss of his head. "And you, Arthur, decide to jump in after her, but you both tragically perish on the rocks below. Uther Pendragon, consumed with his grief over losing his two only children, leaves Ealdor and stays the hell away from my property."

"Why the hell would either of us do that?" Arthur snapped, wondering if anyone would be stupid enough to believe such a story. Maybe the media, but surely there would be people close to Arthur who would suspect the truth.

Cenred waved the gun in their faces to remind them of its presence. "Because if you don't, I'll just shoot you both here and let you bleed out and die until they find your rotting bodies. But that's just messy, and there might be a few more 'accidents' in the cleanup, if you get my drift."

The crack of a stick breaking in the underbrush alerted that someone was coming, and Cenred quickly swiveled towards the direction of the sound, momentarily distracted. Seeing his chance, Arthur sprang forward, ramming into Cenred and reaching for the gun. They wrestled for control of the gun stuck between them until there was a loud bang, followed by another, and fiery pain screamed through Arthur's insides.

Arthur staggered backwards in shock, feeling like he suddenly couldn't get enough air in his lungs. As he gasped heavily, struggling to breathe, he clutched at his chest, drawing his hand back a moment later to see his fingers stained red.

***

When Merlin woke up to discover the spot next to him was empty, the wrinkled sheets cool to the touch, his immediate fear was that Arthur had a change of heart in the middle of the night. The mere idea stung as if he had been physically struck, and he rubbed at the hollow ache it left under his sternum, finding little relief.

It wouldn't be the first time he had fallen head over heels for someone, only to be completely blindsided when they wanted to call the relationship off. In a small town like Ealdor, he hadn't found much luck when it came to dating, often relying on the tourist season to bring in fresh faces and new possibilities. Maybe it had been his fault for being so invested in something the other person just considered a summer fling, for being a romantic sap who naively thought a relationship could survive the end of summer through a series of long-distance phone calls and cheesy postcards. Even though he had known at the time that it was coming, it had always hurt when those relationships were severed, and he had moped for days afterwards, sometimes weeks. But he had never felt it to this extreme before, like every time he breathed, the constricting pressure around his heart magnified thricefold.

Not one of the people he had been with in the past had ever made him laugh and smile so hard he thought his cheeks were going to crack, had confessed deep personal secrets and listened as he shared his own, had stood up for him to their overbearing parents, had admitted when they had made mistakes, or had even called his scrawny, messy-haired and big-eared self 'beautiful.'

Not one of them had known about his magic. Not one of them had been Arthur.

That's right, he mentally amended as sleep continued to fade away under the dawning light of consciousness, they weren't Arthur, and Arthur wasn't one of them. While he knew Arthur had made poor choices in the past, he believed Arthur wouldn't just leave like that all of a sudden, at least not without saying something.

Merlin sat up slowly, his body still slightly sore from the previous night, and his eyes flickered over to the nightstand in search for a note or anything left behind. Remnants of the conversation from earlier when he was barely awake began to filter back into the forefront of his mind. He remembered Arthur climbing out of bed and saying something about picking up Morgana and being right back, but Merlin didn't know how much time had passed since then.

He reached for the phone, dialing the number he now knew by heart. It rang only once the first time, then straight to voicemail every time thereafter, and suspicion began to rear its ugly head yet again. He squashed it quickly this time, willing to give Arthur the benefit of the doubt for the time being. A voice was screaming inside his eardrums that something about the whole situation was wrong, but he couldn't quite figure out what it was yet. It was like walking into a room to fetch something, only to forget what it was you were looking for as soon as you stepped through the doorway.

Then the cold, hard truth hit him smack in the face: he had tried to prevent Arthur from leaving. Not just because he wanted Arthur to stay in bed longer, but because he had known there was one last piece of his vision that had yet to come into play.

Merlin kicked off his sheets and scrambled out of bed, fumbling with his clothes while cursing himself for being so stupid. The ramifications of Arthur knowing about his magic had taken up too much of his focus last night, leaving no room for any other topics, yet he still felt angry with himself. Why had he not thought to warn Arthur about the rest of the vision when he had the chance, especially since Arthur finally believed him? He should have made the connection between the vision and the men that had attacked them in the alleyway (and the mysterious "Cenred" person everyone seemed to be talking about) sooner, should have been better prepared to protect Arthur from harm at all times.

The sun had just started to peek its head out over the horizon when Merlin left the shop, and he wondered if he would make it in time, if he wasn't too late already. Even though the increasingly familiar path of golden light began to swirl at his feet, he didn't need it, knowing the location of where he needed to head towards all too well.

Either he lost track of time, or it ceased to exist for him altogether. Because even though he ran the entire way and took every possible shortcut he knew, he arrived outside the tourist area for the Dragon Cliffs impossibly fast.

But not fast enough; as Merlin stumbled through the woods, his feet snapping twigs and catching on branches in his haste, he heard gunshots ring out in the air. He burst out from the cover of trees just in time to see Arthur crumple to the ground, blood blossoming over the front of his shirt.

Merlin screamed. "No!"

He tried to rush forward, but the man standing over Arthur jumped at the outburst, swerving around with a startled shout to aim the gun in Merlin's direction. He fired without any hesitation, leaving no chance for Merlin to dodge out of the way.

But gave the perfect opportunity for his magic to spring into action.

Everything around him suddenly seemed to be stuck in slow-motion; the wind blowing through the leaves of the trees, the seagulls soaring through the sky, the soft wisp of gunpowder smoke from the gun barrel.

The bullet spinning inches from his face, its trajectory leaving behind spiraling rivulets in the air.

Merlin simply stepped to the side, hearing the wood splinter and crack as the bullet hit the tree behind him when time returned to normal a moment later. Blind fury like he had never felt before overwhelmed him; he raised both of his hands, his eyes flaring such a bright gold it actually burned. The gunman flew backwards before he could get out another shot, the sound of his head forcefully cracking against the rocky ground echoing dully in Merlin's ears.

The full weight of what he had just done would probably come crashing down on Merlin's shoulders later, but at the moment he was too distracted by the need to get to Arthur's side. He raced over, skidding on his knees as he dropped down, his hands shaking as he examined Arthur's injuries. "...A-Arthur? Arthur, can you hear me?"

Arthur let out a rattling cough, blood speckling on his lips. His eyes, unfocused and cloudy, rolled back into his head as he foolishly tried to sit up. "...Morgana...” he groaned, “...get Morgana..."

Merlin popped his head up in surprise, his questioning gaze meeting Morgana's terrified one; he hadn't even noticed her presence until now. Not willing to move from his spot by Arthur, he focused on the rope that bound Morgana's wrists to the rail, fraying the fibers by sending out tendrils of his magic until it broke.

“Morgana, please trust me,” he begged when he saw her flinch at the action, staring at him like he had grown a second head. “I promise I’ll explain later, but right now Arthur needs help."

That seemed to snap her out of the daze she was in, and she scrambled over to the gunman's body, giving it a swift kick in anger after finding her phone in his pockets. Merlin heard her frantically describing the situation to what he guessed was an emergency operator, and gritted his teeth when he learned the man who had shot Arthur was indeed the Cenred he had only heard vague details about. He turned his attention back to Arthur and muttered, "...Damn it, Arthur, I told you not to go. Why couldn't you just _listen_ to me?"

Arthur chuckled weakly, his back arching up off the ground as a fresh wave of pain rolled over his ashen features. "You know me, Merlin...I hardly ever listen to you... To be fair, you...you could have been a little clearer... Besides, there's no burning tower here at all..."

"It's supposed to be symbolism, you prat," Merlin retorted back before he could stop himself, the little bit of their banter making him smile slightly through his tears. His magic buzzed anxiously as he murmured incantations to fix the damage that had been done, but there was just so much blood, he couldn't stanch the flow fast enough.

"Merlin," Arthur whispered, his breath hitching in his throat as he blindly grasped at Merlin's hand, his fingers deathly cold and clammy. "Merlin, I'm glad you're here."

Merlin felt the strength being sapped out of Arthur's grip, and he choked back a sob when he realized his magic wasn't doing enough to help. "Arthur, you'll be okay," he said, his voice cracking with each word. "Please...you have to be okay."

The wailing of ambulances in the distance drowned out Arthur's response before he closed his eyes and let his head drop to the side, his chest barely moving.

"...No, you can't... Please Arthur..." Merlin pleaded, trying to force all his remaining magic into Arthur, not willing to give up after everything they had been through together. His overtaxed body trembled violently from the strain, and he mumbled spell after spell (some he didn’t even know he knew) in a last-ditch attempt to heal, to mend, to fix his mistake. But all to no avail.

When the emergency crew ran up with one of the stretchers, Merlin fought as they tried to pull him back. He couldn't leave Arthur alone, he just _couldn't_. Not now.

It was only the sight of an oxygen mask being slipped over Arthur's bluish lips that finally got Merlin to turn away, his body slumping over itself from over-exertion. Arms wrapped around and caught him before he collapsed, and he glanced up to see Morgana's pinched face, looking just as distraught as he felt.

"They're taking him down to town, because there's not enough space for a helicopter to land here," Morgana explained quietly, as if she was speaking to a small child. "They'll airlift him from Ealdor, but... Oh, Merlin, he’s lost so much blood..."

At the mention of blood, Merlin remembered how his hands were still covered with Arthur's. He stared at them as if he was seeing them for the first time, the once warm liquid now cool and thickening as it oozed down his skin. Suddenly the tangy coppery smell was too much for him to handle, and he tore out of Morgana's grip to fall onto his hands and knees. He began to dry heave once the grave reality of the situation hit him squarely in the gut.

Oh god, he had been willing to hurt someone, to _kill_ someone, all for Arthur. Who was probably going to die despite everything Merlin had done.

_Do not fret, there is still hope._

Merlin blinked, recognizing the voice he associated with his magic resonating inside his head. It was faded and hard to hear, probably because he had drained the resource tapped down inside him to near completion.

 _What do I do?_ he thought, struggling to block out the noises around him. _Tell me what to do._

The voice went quiet, and Merlin was about to rescind himself to the fact that there was no answer to hear. But then the morning sun finally crested over the cliffs, and he stared out at the ocean and laughed. Laughed so hard it came out as a strangled noise, laughed so hard he began to hyperventilate, laughed so hard it physically _ached_.

Could it really be that simple?

He was vaguely aware that people were staring at him, their lips moving to form words he couldn’t catch. Not over the roaring in his ears as he staggered to his feet, his focus on the dragon in front of him that looked like it was stretching its wings out for a morning flight. He didn’t know if the magic crackling in the air like embers from a flame was real or a hallucination, but he didn’t care, it was his last and only chance. And he was going to take it, no matter what happened to him.

So he ignored the posted warnings, he ignored the repeated callings of his name. He climbed over the guardrail and dashed towards the cliff edge with a grim sense of determination.

And then he jumped.

***

When Arthur regained consciousness, it wasn't because of the liquid dripping into the IV bag strapped to his arm, nor the beeping and whirling of various machines that monitored his vitals. It wasn't even due to the throbbing tightness in his chest, even if his entire body did feel like it had been thrown under a bus.

Instead, the first thing he was aware of was a warm weight pressed against his thigh, and his fingers intertwined in a familiar mop of hair. He knew it was Merlin without even looking, the comforting presence cutting through the dark, hazy fog of pain and confusion Arthur found himself trapped in.

When Arthur opened his eyes, he hissed as the harsh, artificial overhead light stung his ill-prepared retinas. He blinked a few times to clear his blurry vision before he could focus enough to identify his surroundings. It soon became obvious he was in a hospital room (that was filled to near bursting with flowers, balloons, and get well cards), but he had no memory of how he got there. The last thing he remembered was being at the cliffs, grasping at the newly formed holes in his chest, his only thought being how thankful he was to see Merlin one last time.

Unless the room was some weird aspect of the afterlife he had never heard of, Arthur quickly figured out that he somehow hadn't died after all. And he was willing to bet it had everything to do with the person currently snoozing as he rested his head on Arthur's leg.

Arthur's reaction time was slow and sluggish, as if his limbs had yet to properly awaken all the way. But he still managed to brush Merlin's bangs out of his face, his smile tilting downwards into a frown when he noticed the bandage above Merlin's brow. The frown deepened when he realized one of Merlin's wrists was encased in a cast, and there was a set of crutches leaning against the uncomfortable-looking chair Merlin was sleeping in.

"You're lucky to be alive," came a soft, feminine voice. "The both of you."

Arthur jerked his head up, spotting Hunith sitting in her own chair nearby. He opened his mouth to ask what had happened, but nothing came out but a dry, raspy rattle.

Hunith was instantly by his side, pouring a cup of water and holding it to his lips. "Here, drink slowly," she instructed, raising Arthur's bed so he was at a better angle. He managed to gulp down two glasses before he was unable to keep his head up any longer, and she gave him a sympathetic smile. "No wonder you were so thirsty, you've been out for a few days."

"A few days?" Arthur repeated, barely able to get his voice above a scratchy whisper. His mind scrambled to catch up and process everything going on around him. "What happened?"

"From what I heard, you had lost a lot of blood. They were afraid you wouldn't make it here in time," Hunith explained, pausing to scoot her chair closer. "But as soon as you arrived, the doctors said your injuries weren't as severe as they originally appeared, like your body had already started to recover."

The image of Merlin placing his hands on Arthur's chest--eyes glowing golden with power as his lips formed the syllables to an ancient language Arthur didn't understand--immediately sprang to mind. Gratitude and awe seeped through Arthur's features as he carded his fingers through Merlin's hair again.

Then he stilled as a thought struck him: while Merlin hadn't mentioned it outright, it seemed like his magic wasn't common public knowledge, and Arthur would hate if that had changed because of him.

"They still don't have any idea what caused it, and are chalking it up as some sort of medical miracle," Hunith continued, seemingly reading Arthur's thoughts as she followed the direction of his gaze. "...But I take it you know the truth?"

"I promise I won't tell anyone," Arthur assured her, not missing the underlying concern for Merlin's safety in the question. Seeing her shoulders sag with relief, he could imagine how hard it must have been for her, worrying about her son's secret getting out on top of his injuries. "But I don't understand. How did Merlin get hurt? Cenred didn't do this."

Hunith shook her head with a sigh. "No, this is because when it looked like Merlin's...gifts wouldn't be enough to heal you, he got it into his head that he should jump from the Dragon Cliffs and wish that you would recover. It's a miracle that he is one of the few people that have actually survived the fall."

The room began to spin as Arthur inhaled sharply, feeling like he had been punched in the gut. "He _what_?"

Merlin shifted at the noise, groggily rubbing at his face as he began to stir.

"I think I should leave you two alone to talk," Hunith said as she rose from her seat. "If you need anything, the call button is by your side, but I'll let the staff know you're awake."

Hunith then wrapped her arms gently around Arthur's neck, catching him by surprise. He tensed, feeling slightly awkward at being hugged by Merlin's mother of all people, but soon relaxed when he realized it just felt normal. Like he had been accepted as part of a family already.

"I know I have no right to ask you this," she murmured into his ear, "but please look after him as much as he looks after you."

Before Arthur could respond that he had already planned on it, Hunith left the room. His attention turned back towards Merlin, who seemed to be torn between waking up or remaining asleep. Arthur decided to make the decision for him, and flicked Merlin's forehead with his thumb and forefinger. " _You idiot_."

Merlin sat upright, rubbing at the pink spot now on his forehead with a confused frown. "...wha?" he mumbled, blinking repeatedly before a grin spread across his face. "Arthur, you're awake!"

Arthur wasted no time in cutting straight to the point. "What the hell were you thinking, jumping off a cliff?" he snapped, more upset by the idea of losing Merlin than at the man himself. "You could have died!"

"Me? What about you?" Merlin spluttered in protest. "Arthur, you wouldn't stop bleeding, no matter what I did. So I thought, if I had any chance at all to save you... I'd take it gladly."

All fight deserted Arthur at hearing that admission. He knew he would probably would have done the same thing as well, if he was given the choice. Besides, he was too tired to argue, too relieved to dwell on things in the past.

"Come here," he commanded gruffly, throwing an arm around Merlin's neck to bring him in close. He kissed Merlin's temple, breathing in deeply. "...Don't ever do something like that again."

"Tell you what," Merlin mumbled, wiping at his eyes as he pulled back after a few seconds. "You stop getting yourself nearly killed, and I won't jump off any more cliffs, deal?"

"Deal," Arthur chuckled weakly, groaning when the movement caused a stab of agony to pierce his chest.

Merlin's hands were immediately hovering over Arthur's bandages, but before he could use any magic, Arthur grabbed his wrists. "Stop. I don't want people to get more suspicious than they already have. If anything, you should worry about yourself first."

Merlin pouted, but eventually nodded, seemingly resigned on the matter for the moment. It wasn’t that Arthur didn't want to get the hell out of the hospital (he had hated them ever since he was a child); he just didn't want it to be at Merlin's expense. He had almost lost him already, he didn't want to take any chances that would separate the two of them ever again.

Feeling the beat of Merlin's pulse hiccup underneath the pads of his fingers, Arthur raised his hand to cup Merlin's cheek. He let out a small gasp when Merlin shyly turned to press his lips into Arthur's palm, the soft warmth tingling throughout his skin. The simple gesture seemed to say everything they hadn't yet, reassuring each other with a silent, _it’s okay, I'm here now, I'm here._

"Sorry if we're interrupting anything, but we heard Sleeping Beauty was finally awake."

Merlin jumped back, his face flushed bright red, and Arthur shot a glance towards Gwaine and Morgana standing in the doorway. Even if their timing was terrible, he was actually glad to see the both of them after the incident with Cenred.

"You two okay?" he asked, his gaze quickly scanning over their appearances. The swelling in Morgana's eye had gone down so she could actually see out of it, but there was still mottled discoloration that marred the skin around it. Minor cuts and abrasions dotted her face, and when she bent over to give him her customary peck on the check, he saw her grimace when she accidentally grazed her heavily bruised jaw against him.

Gwaine seemed to fare a little bit better, grinning as he proudly showed off where they had to shave the back of his head in order to put in a number of stitches. "Got a new battle wound, but nothing I can't handle."

He turned back around to drape an arm over Morgana's shoulders, and she surprisingly didn't throw it off like it was something dirty. Instead, she just rolled her eyes as she swatted at his chest with the back of her hand. "He's been showing that off to everyone. It's like he's actually proud he got jumped from behind.”

"Yeah, well..." Gwaine shrugged, not bothering to deny her claim. "Not all of us can be heroes and take a couple bullets to the chest like Arthur here."

"Speaking of which, I need to talk to Arthur and Merlin alone for bit,” Morgana said, jabbing Gwaine in the side with her elbow. “I’ll meet you in the waiting room later, and if I find out you’ve been flirting at the nurses’ station again, I’m going to chop off your balls and start carrying them in my purse.”

“At least then I’d know they’d be safe and sound,” Gwaine teased with a lecherous wink, laughing as Morgana shoved him out of the room.

After the door was firmly shut, Arthur raised an eyebrow. It seemed the random makeout session at the bar wasn't the extent of Gwaine and Morgana's relationship. “How long have you and Gwaine been...?”

“It’s not what you’re thinking, Arthur. Not that it’s any of your business,” Morgana sighed, then smirked. “But he was right: the sex _is_ fantastic.”

Arthur choked on thin air and spluttered, “I really didn’t need to know that, Morgana.”

Morgana waved a hand nonchalantly, scrolling through her phone, in her normal business mode despite the situation. "You're the one who brought it up, but that's not important. Right now my job is to bring you up to date on what's happened in the past few days, starting with the official story of what happened--for when the reporters coming swarming by. They've already started to group around the hospital, but Percy and Leon have been keeping tabs on who enters and leaves this wing at all times. They're both mad at you, by the way. They can't really guard you if you decide to go off by yourself. I'm thankful that you came for me, but still--"

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," Arthur interrupted, his mind beginning to swim in all the information being dumped on top of him. "What do you mean by 'official story'? I was there, I remember being shot. More than I would like to, actually."

Morgana hesitated before zeroing in on Merlin, who flinched. Nervous energy began to buzz around in the room, and Arthur quickly understood. "You are not to tell a single soul, Morgana," he said, his voice deathly low as he grabbed onto Merlin's arm protectively. "What happened was--"

"--when you and Cenred were wrestling for the gun, the recoil sent him off balance, and he fell backwards, cracking his head open," Morgana finished for him, her lips set in a thin line. "Merlin came on the scene afterwards, and was only involved in trying to stabilize you. Give me some credit, Arthur."

Arthur relaxed, though he could tell Merlin still looked quite pale and was trembling slightly. In an attempt to console him, Arthur gripped their hands together, rubbing his thumb over Merlin's. "What about Cenred?" he asked, not taking his eyes off Merlin in order to judge his reaction. "Won't he say something?"

"Not like he'll be able to. The damn bastard will probably be a fucking vegetable for the rest of his miserable, short life," Morgana spat out. "Father has spent the whole time here on the phone with lawyers and the press, trying to get a case against Essetir Lodges. They're going to try to charge Morgause with accomplice charges. They found evidence that she's the one who paid Valiant and the others, not Cenred."

"Father's here?" Arthur blinked; as far as he knew, the last time Uther had stepped into a hospital was the day he lost a wife and brought home a son. "...And I'm sorry about Morgause. I know it meant a lot to you, finding out you had other family."

Morgana scowled, then hugged him fiercely. "You know what means more? Having a sibling like you that doesn't use me like that bitch did. As far as I'm concerned, I only have a brother, and that's good enough for me. Even when he is a pain in the ass sometimes."

"Thanks, Morgana," Arthur murmured into her shoulder. He was sincerely humbled by her words, even if they were a bit unorthodox.

"Feel better soon, Arthur," she replied, pulling back before heading towards the door. She paused, giving him a smirk. "Father will probably be up to check on you shortly, so the two of you shouldn't get too comfortable, if you get my drift."

She cackled at Arthur's glare and Merlin's blush, and an awkward silence followed in the wake of her departure.

"...Before you ask, I tried to offer to heal her injuries for her too, since, she knows now," Merlin explained, squirming nervously. "But she said not to bother, that she liked glaring at people when they try to stare. It made her feel tough, or something."

Arthur snorted. "She would think that." When Merlin didn't laugh, Arthur gave his hand a comforting squeeze. "Hey, don't worry, she won't tell anyone. In fact, she'll probably thinks you're more of a hero than I am."

"It's not that, just..." Merlin drew in a shaky breath. "Arthur, I practically killed someone with my magic. Doesn't that bother you?"

"No," Arthur replied bluntly. He was still trying to grasp the idea of magic existing and the amount of power Merlin had, but he could safely say he had never once felt threatened or scared by it.

Merlin didn't look too convinced, so Arthur added, "You know what does? Knowing that you're beating yourself up over this."

"But, I--"

"Merlin, the man hurt Morgana, tried to kill you, and almost killed me. You were just acting in self-defense. If I had your powers, I would have done a lot worse." Arthur gritted his teeth, shaking out the violent images he wished against Cenred in his head. "So no, it doesn't bother me."

There was a knock on the door, and Arthur sighed at yet another interruption. A nurse came in, beaming at Arthur as she gave him a check-up and changed his bandages. Arthur could see how Merlin twitched at seeing the injuries while knowing he could help with magic, and Arthur decided to take the temptation away. "Merlin, do you think you could get someone to take you down to the cafeteria so you can get something to eat?"

Merlin looked back and forth from Arthur and the bandages, frowning. "But...but I'm not hungry" he said, flushing when his stomach loudly disagreed with him. "Not _that_ hungry."

"When was the last time you ate?" Arthur asked, rolling his eyes at the embarrassed guilt etched in Merlin's face. "Right, go down and get us both something to eat, will you? I'm sure it'll be better than any slop they bring me."

"We're not supposed to say so, but he's right," the nurse piped up, looking up from her work to sneak an amused smile in Arthur's direction. "The food from the cafeteria is much better than room service. I can ask an orderly to bring you down in a wheelchair if you'd like."

"...Fine, but I can go by myself," Merlin huffed, gathering his crutches and limping out of the room, mumbling a string of curses that sounded like "ass" and "stuck-up" as he went.

"The poor thing has been by your side the entire time," the nurse said, clicking her tongue in concern. "Every time we tried to keep him in a bed, he got out somehow, saying he wanted to be nearby when you woke up. Hopefully now that you're awake, he'll get some actual rest."

Arthur swallowed deeply around the lump in his throat. "I'll make sure of it."

There was the sound of someone pointedly clearing their throat, and suddenly Uther was standing at the foot of the bed, looking dazed and uncomfortable. Arthur would have found it humorous if it was anyone other than his father, knowing Uther's abhorrence of hospitals was based on the same reasoning as his own.

"Arthur, glad to see you're finally awake," Uther said before directing his next question to the nurse. "How is he?"

The nurse smiled warmly, tucking the bedsheets back into place after she finished redressing the bandages. "He's very lucky; most people with his sort of injuries need a longer recovery time, but he should be released to outpatient care in a couple of days." She jotted down something on Arthur's chart before slipping the clipboard back against the bed. "That’s it for now, Mr. Pendragon. Don’t be afraid to page the nurses’ station if you need anything else.”

Arthur absentmindedly thanked her as she left, his focus still on his father who now had his back turned. Throughout his entire life, Arthur had viewed Uther as an imposing, stern figure, but now he saw that his father was just a man. An extremely powerful and wealthy man, but a man nevertheless. Uther's normally immaculate clothes looked rumpled and slept in, and Arthur wondered if Morgana hadn't been over-exaggerating when she said Uther had spent the entire time in the hospital.

"Take off as much time as you need, Arthur," Uther finally said, still facing away from the bed, his hands interlocking behind his back. "We'll be home in a few days, and you can just put this whole Ealdor mess behind you."

Arthur's heart sank. "But," he protested feebly, searching for excuses on how to extend his stay. "the deal isn't completely finalized, and--"

Uther stiffened, swerving his head around. "Damn the deal!" he shouted. "Arthur, you and your sister are the two most precious things I have left in this world, and I nearly lost you both!" He paused, then quietly amended, "That is, if I haven't lost you already."

Arthur was stunned. He had never heard his father speak in such a manner, to openly admit something so personal. To top it off, he swore he saw tears in his father's eyes. "I...I don't understand. I always thought I was never good enough for you."

"Then that is my fault, not yours," Uther replied gruffly, his voice unusually scratchy with emotion. He reached over and placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "I've come to realize that I might have been pushing you too hard, and in the same token, away. In wanting what I thought was best for you, I never stopped to ask you what you wanted. And I think you have suffered because of that."

The words were out of Arthur's mouth before he had a chance to properly mull them over: "I want to stay in Ealdor."

Uther stared in disbelief. "You want to stay where you were almost killed?"

"That was only because of Cenred; he orchestrated all those events." Arthur kept quiet about the dog and the storm, chalking them up as freak occurrences. "Please, Father. Let me go on sabbatical, or even dock my position and pay, I don't care. But I want to stay."

Uther studied Arthur carefully, a wistful expression flickering in his gaze. "...You know, you're just like your mother. She loved the ocean, and was adamant about us all living on a beach someday," he mused out loud, then shook his head to free himself from past promises and regrets. He squeezed Arthur's shoulder one last time, then let go. "Do what makes you happy for once, Arthur. We can discuss plans later, but right now you need rest."

Arthur simply nodded, too overwhelmed by the turn of events to argue. He must have actually dozed off for a little bit afterwards, because the next time he opened his eyes, Uther was gone, probably too uncomfortable with the hospital room to stay for long. Merlin was back in his own designated chair, tearing off pieces of bread from the sandwich in front of him and rolling them into tiny balls. Arthur watched him through heavy-lidded eyes for a few seconds before he finally teased, "You're supposed to eat the sandwich, Merlin. Not play with it."

Merlin jumped, then smiled sheepishly. “I wanted to wait for you,” he explained, sliding the bedside table over Arthur’s lap and placing a sandwich and fountain drink on top of it. “BLT okay?”

“You idiot, you should have started without me,” Arthur huffed with mock annoyance, even though he was unable to hide his grin. He managed to take a couple of small bites, chewing slowly so his body could get used to having food again, but he ate more for Merlin's benefit than his own. While he was starving, fatigue was starting to gain precedence over everything else. After he saw Merlin wolf down the majority of his own sandwich (some pesto and portabella mushroom concoction), Arthur pushed his tray away and patted the side of the bed. "Come up here."

"Wuh?" Merlin asked with his mouth full, wiping it with back of his hand. He swallowed, darting a glance towards the door, then back to Arthur. "I don't think that's a good idea. The nurses--"

"--will be thankful I managed to get you to stay in a bed," Arthur stressed, raising an eyebrow challengingly. "They already told me, and I can see why they were worried. I'm getting exhausted just looking at you. Now, will you come up here already?"

Merlin blushed in embarrassment, hesitating one last time before he placed his sandwich and drink to the side. While he was busy fiddling with the bed railing to lower it, Arthur shifted his body over to make room, clenching his teeth from the exertion on his weakened body.

It was awkward trying to get them both situated comfortably in the narrow bed--Arthur couldn't have any pressure on his chest, and a broken wrist and sprained ankle of course made Merlin even clumsier than usual. But they eventually found a position that worked for them, and Arthur felt the tingling sensation he now knew as Merlin's magic wrap around them tighter than any blanket.

"Is this okay?" Merlin mumbled, his words slurring as he already started to drift off. The dark bags under his eyes should have been evidence enough to how drained he was, but Arthur hadn't realized the full extent until now. He tilted his head to the side, idly watching Merlin's chest rise and fall with each breath, waiting to make sure Merlin was actually sleeping before he rested back against the pillow.

Despite the fact that he was stuck in a hospital for a couple of bullet wounds thanks to a disgruntled competitor who acted like a mafia wannabe, he realized Merlin's mere presence counteracted all that negativity. It left Arthur feeling safe and warm, protected, even loved. The answer to the question that he had been contemplating for the longest time came easily to him now: as long as he had Merlin by his side, Arthur could take on whatever the world threw at them.

"Yeah," he finally whispered to Merlin’s sleeping form, smiling as he shut his eyes, "It's exactly what I want."

***

“Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses, to join Lance Dulac and Guinevere Smith in matrimony. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together--”

“--they need to keep their damn mouth shut, or I’ll shut it for them!” Gwaine crowed, emphasizing his point with a dramatic cracking of knuckles.

Peals of laughter rose from the crowd, ringing in the air over the roar of the nearby waves. Merlin chuckled as well, even though he knew there was some truth in Gwaine's words. The need to protect the honor of the happy couple seemed to be shared with the rest of the bridal party: Morgana, the fading bruises on her face expertly concealed with makeup, took her role as Maid of Honor seriously by shooting a general glare at the audience, almost daring any detractors to appear. Arthur was a little more subtle in his reproach; he laughed along with everyone else, but there was a glint his eyes that sent out a clear warning.

Merlin felt a shiver run through his spine as he took in the rest of Arthur's sharply dressed appearance, reaffirming that he looked too damn good in a suit for it to be legal. Of course, he looked good out of his suit as well, and now that Merlin had that mental image stuck in his head, he had trouble focusing on anything else.

Arthur suddenly caught Merlin's lingering gaze and winked with a knowing grin. Merlin blushed deep pink in response, gesturing for Arthur to turn his attention back to the ceremony before anyone noticed. There had been hushed gossip on how unorthodox it was to have the bride's ex be the best man, and there were some who even foolishly believed that if anyone would speak out against the union, it would be Arthur. But not many people knew that Arthur was actually the one who had introduced his two friends in the first place, and was probably one of their strongest supporters.

When Lance had looked like he was about to pass out from nervousness as he waited for Gwen to walk down the aisle, it had been Arthur's comforting squeeze to his elbow that steadied him. And when Gwen had started to grow teary-eyed when her father gave her away, Arthur was the first person to whip out a handkerchief before she could ruin her makeup.

After Gwaine's outburst, there were no further interruptions, and the wedding proceeded as planned. Soon there was plenty of cheering and crying as Lance and Gwen were pronounced husband and wife, and even a couple of wolf whistles as Lance dipped Gwen for the kiss. The two of them then beamed at their family and friends with tear-filled eyes before they both ran down the sandy aisle, hand in hand and under a flurry of thrown confetti and shouted well-wishes.

The reception was being held a little farther down on the same beach, under a large white tent that shielded the sun's harsh rays but still let the cool sea breeze blow through its sheer fabric walls. Merlin was grateful for the proximity; though he no longer had to use crutches, his ankle still twinged with a dull throbbing ache if he walked or stood on it for too long, even in the protective plastic boot he was supposed to wear. Along with his wrist still encased in a cast (which was completely covered with names and messages, including an obscene doodle from Gwaine that Merlin had needed to scratch out before his mother had accidentally seen it), it had been a slight struggle just for him to get dressed in a suit. But he hadn't been willing to allow such inconveniences to prevent him from attending the wedding, and he knew Arthur felt the exact same way about his own injuries.

Watching Arthur at the head table as he gave a moving best man speech that didn't leave a dry eye in the crowd, one would have found it hard to believe that he had been released from the hospital just one day prior. Merlin had originally experienced some trepidation over Arthur being out and about so soon; just because Arthur was healthy enough that he wasn't in critical condition any more didn't mean he had recovered completely. But he had been insistent that Gwen and Lance follow through with their plans of marrying as soon as possible, and just as argumentative that he was well enough to attend. It seemed his near brush with death hadn't lessened his stubbornness or hardheadedness.

It hadn't lessened Merlin's tendency to try and help speed things along either.

Okay, so he knew Arthur had warned him about using his magic lest anyone got suspicious--which was why his wrist was still encased in a cast, only because it was hard to explain away broken bones healing overnight (not to mention his magic never seemed to work directly on himself). But Merlin figured people already considered Arthur's survival a miracle, what was a little more mystical healing here and there going to hurt?

(Of course, he only did a little bit at night, after he was sure Arthur had fallen asleep. He felt somewhat guilty about keeping it from him, but Merlin was only doing what he felt was best.)

As he observed the party unfolding in front of him, Merlin felt confident he had made the right decision. He sat on the sidelines, foot propped up on a chair, keen on just watching people rather than attempting to join in the festivities. He saw new friendships being formed while old ones re-connected, and both young and young-at-heart jumped around the makeshift dance floor regardless of any actual skill.

His mother flitted about through it all, stocking the food on the buffet table or serving beverages, the smile never leaving her face even though she had been on her feet since that morning. The wedding was the trial run of Hunith's newfound catering business, and if it went well, it meant she could close the bed and breakfast when the Pendragon Suites location opened and still have a viable income. He wasn't sure, but he had a feeling Arthur was the one who had planted the idea in her head, and it was so fitting, Merlin didn't know why he hadn't thought of it himself.

In the meantime, The Dragon's Call was bursting with plenty of guests, so much so that they had to start turning people away unless they had booked weeks in advance. Arthur himself had extended his reservation on his room for the rest of the summer, or until he could find a more permanent residence, considering he was to be the new owner and manager of the new hotel location. The company had wasted no time in breaking ground at the building site, and already a lot of Arthur's friends had been hired for various positions. Gwaine was trying his hand at running the in-house restaurant, while Leon and Percy were making plans for the hotel's gym. Gwen and Morgana had already been gleefully discussing what services would be offered at the attached day spa, and Lance had already established an activity and tour committee.

Even Will had reluctantly agreed to accept a job there, guaranteed the position Head of Maintenance as well as a bunch of employee benefits he couldn't turn down, no matter how much he griped that he felt like he was "selling out to the man."

As one of the drink trays came by, Merlin grabbed a flute of champagne, the bubbly liquid tickling as it went down his throat. The sensation made him laugh, or maybe it was just the happiness that had been welling up inside him. Sure, things might not have been completely perfect in his life, but he was still utterly content at the moment.

"How many of those have you had already?"

He glanced up to see Arthur standing over him, eyes brimming with a teasing fondness.

"I've only had this one so far," Merlin replied, downing the rest of the champagne. "Why?"

"Good, because I'm cutting you off after three," Arthur said, taking the empty seat nearby. "Especially if you're already grinning like an idiot. You get tipsier faster than anyone I've ever met. Even Gwen can outdrink you."

Merlin snorted as he shoved Arthur playfully. "Prat. I can handle myself, you know."

"I know, that's the problem," Arthur said, leaning over to whisper in Merlin's ear. "Especially when you don't listen to what you're told."

The guilt about keeping the nightly healing sessions a secret suddenly flared up inside Merlin. He fidgeted nervously, unable to meet Arthur's questioning gaze. "Um, about that, I should probably tell you that I--"

"--used your magic to help my injuries recover, even though I specifically told you not to? Yeah, I kind of figured that out already, Merlin." Arthur sighed, draping his arm comfortably across Merlin's shoulders. "And while I'm still upset you kept it from me, I know I wouldn't be here right now if it wasn't for you, so thank you."

Merlin beamed, but before he could say anything, there was a call to attention in the center of the tent. All the single women were lined up as Gwen participated in the traditional tossing of the bouquet. There was a loud whoop when Morgana reached out and snatched it from the air, shaking her prize triumphantly. But then she took one glance at Gwaine, shrugged, and threw it over her shoulder as she grabbed his hand, the two of them leaving through a flap in the tent in a hurry.

"...I still don't know how those two got together," Arthur muttered, shaking his head. As far as he knew, Gwaine had finally accomplished what no man had before and had broke past Morgana's defenses, emerging relatively unscathed from the process but completely smitten. "And I'm not sure I want to."

"Mm, I don't really understand it either," Merlin murmured as he placed his head against Arthur’s shoulder, starting to feel the combined effects of a long day and alcohol on an empty stomach. "But in their own way, I think they do care for each other like I predicted they would."

Arthur chuckled, the low sound vibrating through Merlin’s body as well. "Of course you would. Then again, you also said Gwen and Lance would get married, and everyone knew that was bound to happen eventually. Though having it happen so quickly after Lance proposed was surprising."

"They probably wanted to do it before Gwen started to show." Merlin froze as soon as the words escaped his mouth. He popped his head up and stared at Arthur with widened eyes, pleading softly, "Please don't let them know I told you."

Arthur frowned in confusion as he glanced over towards Gwen and Lance. "What are you--" He paused when it finally seemed to click. "...Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure." Merlin hesitated, not sure if he had the right to continue discussing the subject. "During his reading, Lance said he was worried he was doing something wrong, because Gwen seemed so stressed and tired lately. All of his cards pointed to...well, you know, and when I finally met Gwen, it seemed to fit."

Arthur mumbled something about Lance and the reading that Merlin didn't quite get before he stood. "Stay here, I'll be right back."

Merlin held his breath as Arthur approached Gwen, worried that the knowledge of Gwen's supposed pregnancy would somehow slip out into the conversation. But even though he couldn't hear them talking, judging by their body language whatever the discussion was went over well: Gwen suddenly wrapped her arms around Arthur, giving him a friendly kiss on the cheek. Arthur returned the gesture, whispering something in Gwen's ear before pulling from the embrace and returning to Merlin's side. "Okay, we can go now."

"'Go'?" Merlin repeated, darting a glance in Gwen's direction. "What do you mean? And what was all that about?"

"I apologized that we have to leave early," Arthur explained, scooting back Merlin's chair back and helping him to his feet. "But you were getting tired, and had overworked yourself after being in the hospital recently--"

"Me? But you're the one who--"

"--and I also told her it was a lovely wedding, and I'm glad she found someone who's perfect for her and makes her happy," Arthur continued, ignoring Merlin's protest. He interlocked their hands together, rubbing his thumb against the skin of Merlin's uninjured wrist. "...And when she told me she hoped I would find the same, I explained that I already had."

Warmth spread through Merlin's cheeks and trickled down through the rest of his body, stunned by Arthur's indirect confession. "Oh."

"Yes, 'oh'." Arthur grinned as he tugged Merlin closer, enveloping him in his arms and brushing their foreheads together. "Now, come on," he whispered huskily. "Let's go."

If Merlin was able to run at the moment, he would have dashed out of the tent based on the smoldering expression in Arthur's gaze alone. As it was, he had a hard time getting his legs to work together in his haste, and shivered anxiously when Arthur reached out to steady his stance.

They waved goodbye to a few friends, but left the wedding generally unnoticed, much to Merlin's relief. The swarm of reporters that had infested Ealdor after the incident at the cliffs had finally died down, and he no longer had to live in fear of being bombarded by an impromptu interview whenever he walked down the street. He suspected Morgana had something to do with the decline of cameras shoved in his face, but she wouldn't admit to anything besides threatening a couple of paparazzi that were out of line with their questioning.

As they walked the short distance to the shop, Arthur and Merlin jostled and bumped into each other, laughing and joking around the entire way. But as soon as they stepped through the front door, the mood in the air electrified, and Arthur suddenly pinned Merlin against the nearest wall. Their mouths crushed together so furiously that their teeth clacked, but neither of them seemed to care as they ran their hands all over. There was a whine in Merlin's throat as he shamefully rubbed against Arthur, his cock already starting to pitch a tent in his suit trousers.

Arthur tore his lips away so he could speak, but couldn't resist punctuating every other word with a kiss: "Your uncle won't be back any time soon, will he?"

Merlin shook his head. The shop had been closed so he and Gaius could attend the wedding, and the last time he saw his uncle, the older man had been doing the chicken dance while dressed in a tie-dye hemp-woven suit. Alice had agreed to be Gaius's date, wearing a matching dress, and it was unlikely the two would return to the shop any time soon. "I doubt it."

"Good." Arthur tilted his head to suck possessively at Merlin's neck before he growled. "Upstairs. Now."

While Merlin didn't have to be told twice, apparently his pace up the stairs wasn't fast enough for Arthur. Because halfway through, Merlin found himself being swept up and carried the rest of the way to the bedroom. "Arthur, stop! You shouldn't--"

"Stop worrying, Merlin." Arthur deposited Merlin on the bed, kicking off his shoes before unbuttoning his shirt. "Look, I'm fine."

Merlin instinctively cringed when he saw the bandages, but then noticed they were still white and pristine. If Arthur had reopened his wounds, it would have bled through, right? He reached up to gingerly peel one back; the skin tissue was deep pink and marred (and still needed a little bit of recovery time), but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Arthur would always have the scars, both physical and mental (even Merlin's magic couldn't take care of those), but it didn't matter as long as he was alive.

On a whim, Merlin moved close and gently left a ghost of a kiss across both bandages, feeling Arthur's breath hitch in his chest. When he glanced up, he met Arthur's gaze, the desire and affection he saw there matching his own.

"Arthur," he whispered, and Arthur responded by pushing him down on the bed and straddling him. They kissed again; not as frenzied as downstairs, but slow and languorous, as if they had all the time in the world. Before he met Arthur, Merlin never knew how exhilarating or addictive just kissing could be, his head spinning from it all as he craved even more. When Arthur rose up, Merlin lifted off the pillow to follow, nibbling and sucking at Arthur's lips until they opened to guide his tongue inside. When Arthur pressed down, Merlin opened his lips in return, whimpering as Arthur kissed them until they felt swollen and sore.

He tried to push Arthur's suit jacket and shirt completely off, but the rough casing of his cast snagged and caught on the fabric. Arthur laughed at Merlin's frustration and shed the offending clothes before working on Merlin's own, mindful of his wrist. "How did you even get dressed today if you're having so much trouble with that thing?"

"I wasn't in so much of a hurry this morning," Merlin huffed, reddening when Arthur's smile grew wider. He turned his head to the side bashfully as he admitted, "...It was actually harder to deal with my trousers, because trying to deal with the zipper and my ankle."

Automatically Arthur's hand slipped down low, cupping Merlin's erection through the fabric. "I think I can help with that," he said, his voice rough and sultry as he dragged his mouth across Merlin's collarbones, biting gently. As his agile fingers tugged the zipper tab down at an agonizing pace, his lips sucked and licked a pattern against skin, his tongue flicked out to swipe across nipples, and his teeth scraped against lines of lithe muscles. Merlin moaned, his fingers gripping into the broadness of Arthur's shoulders as he arched slightly against the bed.

When Arthur finally undid the zipper completely, he carefully pulled both the trousers and boxers down at the same time, as if he didn't want to jostle Merlin around with too much movement. He undid the plastic boot around the sprained ankle, propping the foot up with a pillow before sliding into the space between Merlin's legs. Wrapping his hand firmly around the base of Merlin's cock, he gave it a tentative stroke, followed by another.

"A-Arthur!" Merlin cried out, his hips instinctively bucking upwards. Arthur grinned as he held them down with his other hand, bending his head down to lick off the pre-come beading at the tip of Merlin's cock. Merlin managed to shakily prop himself up onto his elbows, watching with widened eyes as Arthur continued to run his tongue along the length, flopping back against the pillows when Arthur actually took him in his mouth. "Fuck!"

Arthur hummed in agreement, just heightening the sensation as his tongue swirled around. While he didn't take Merlin in completely, his fingers diligently stroked at the rest. Sometimes they traveled down to cup and caress Merlin's balls, sometimes they traced the vein along the underside of his cock, nails grazing just lightly enough to be mixture of pleasure and pain.

Merlin bit down so hard at his bottom lip he tasted blood, and he strained to prolong the experience and not come too quickly. He felt the pressure of the hand holding him down lessen until it was lifted off altogether, and he unconsciously thrust upwards into Arthur's mouth once before he caught himself. "Shit, sorry!"

Shaking his head, Arthur pulled off of Merlin's cock with a juicy pop. "Do that again," he commanded hoarsely before sliding his lips back down, hollowing out his cheeks as he sucked deeply. Any hesitation left inside Merlin evaporated after that, and he thrust a few more times, fucking Arthur's wet and willing mouth with wild abandon. His fingers dug into the bed as he felt his balls tighten, and he stumbled over a warning just seconds before he came. Just as his orgasm washed over him, his magic surged through his veins, causing all the lights in the room to flare so brightly the air hummed with energy .

Arthur swallowed it all, stroking out any remaining spurts of come before he relinquished his hold on Merlin's softening cock. He hastily unzipped his trousers to expose his own aching erection, tugging at himself before coming into his fist. As he crawled up the bed, he wiped his hand off on the sheets then collapsed at Merlin's side.

"I'm guessing it was that good, huh?" Arthur teased as he lazily pulled Merlin into his arms. "For a second there, I thought the light bulbs were going to shatter."

"...S-sorry, I didn't... I mean, I don't know why..." Merlin ducked his head in embarrassment, his cheeks burning as he tried to regulate his breathing back to normal. He still hadn't pinpointed why his magic reacted so strongly to Arthur, though he was starting to form an inkling of an idea. Although they seemed a bit ridiculous to consider, words like "soulmates," "destiny," and "fate" were the only things that came to mind. But it didn't matter if what they had couldn’t be neatly slotted into designated terms--they were just Arthur and Merlin, Merlin and Arthur, and that was all that mattered.

"Don't worry, I'm sure we have plenty of time to figure it out somehow." Arthur yawned before he added with a chuckle, "Just not right now."

Merlin suddenly stilled. It had been an innocuous comment, but Arthur's words struck a chord deep within him. The incident at the cliffs had been the last thing he saw in his vision, but now that Arthur was planning on becoming a permanent resident in Ealdor, Merlin wondered if there was any other sort of danger lurking in their futures. "The crystal."

"What?" Arthur asked drowsily, already started to drift off to sleep. "What about it?"

"I need to know, if..." Merlin started to say "if I still need to protect you," but knew he would always be constantly looking out for Arthur, regardless if there was danger present or not. "...if it's safe for you to stay."

Arthur paused as he mulled the idea over, but instead of scoffing and teasing like when they first met, he nodded. "Stay here and I'll get it. You shouldn't go up and down those stairs more than you need to."

Merlin bit back a response that he wasn't the only injured person and really, he was fine. But in the end, he decided it wasn't worth arguing over, especially since he really didn't feel like moving from the bed at the moment. Arthur disappeared, coming back a few minutes later with the crystal in his hands and Aithusa trotting behind him. "Guess who was mewing outside the back door again?"

"You would think he would learn." Merlin rolled his eyes, sighing. He then shifted his attention to the spot on the bed where Arthur had placed the crystal, breathing in deeply to mentally prepare himself. But just when he was about to place his hands down, Arthur stopped him. "Wait."

Before Merlin could ask why, Arthur climbed into the bed behind him, pulling Merlin into his lap. "Whatever you see," he said as placed a kiss behind Merlin's ear, "we'll figure out how to handle it. Together."

Merlin blinked away the tears that had sprung to the corners of his eyes. Not only had Arthur accepted him for who he was, he finally believed in everything, just like Merlin had always hoped. He swallowed down the emotion threatening to overwhelm him, knowing that he full-heartedly loved the man behind him, and then he grasped at the crystal fearlessly.

_At first, Merlin didn't recognize what he was seeing: it was a balcony overlooking the beach, connected to a lavish hotel suite. He then realized he must be looking at one of Pendragon Suites's rooms, and one of their finer models, judging by its size and furnishings._

_He saw himself standing by the balcony edge, sipping from what looked like a glass of champagne. The nightly breeze ruffled his longer hair as it rolled off the ocean, causing him to rub a hand up his bare arms._

_Arthur came from the bathroom and joined him, hair and skin still damp while wearing only a terry cloth robe. He embraced Merlin from behind, trailing kisses up and down his neck. Their hands interlocked with each other, and Arthur raised them up so the dim light could catch on their matching rings. "I can't believe you were actually surprised when I asked you. I thought for sure you were going to find out."_

_Merlin watched as he ducked his head bashfully and admitted, "Well, I kind of had a feeling..."_

"Merlin!"

Merlin inhaled sharply as he snapped out of the vision, blinking in confusion when he realized he had somehow landed back against the bed. Arthur hovered over him, probably doing his best impression of not showing he was overly worried but failing miserably. "Are you okay? ...What happened?"

"It's fine," Merlin said, unable to wipe the smile from his face, even as he pulled Arthur down for a kiss. "Everything will be just fine."

**FIN**

***

Bonus art! Arthur and Aithusa:  


For those who are interested, I made graphical representation of the tarot reading Merlin gave Arthur:

**Significator (card not shown in reading, but represents the person): King of Wands** _As a person, the King of Wands is the ultimate leader, who looks forward to challenges because he enjoys the rush of adrenaline that solving a difficult problem can induce. He not only dispels his own fear but that of others, by ensuring them that they shall succeed. He is not all talk, though; when the going gets tough no one hangs in there longer than he does. The King of Wands has a deep and innate respect for other people, and his compassion extends farther than most people would expect. For a King, he has a remarkably good relationship with the common people. When he is unable to assist by himself, he will empower and enable others to help in his place._  
 **The atmosphere surrounding the central issue: Ace of Pentacles:** _A new business venture, the beginning of prosperity, beginning of happiness or pleasure_  
 **The obstacle that stands in your way: Ten Of Wands:** _An oppressive load, pain, all plans or projects ruined, complete failure_  
 **Your goal, or the best you can achieve without a dramatic change of priorities: Seven of Wands:** _The ability to "hold one's own" against adversaries, stiff competition in business, a fight won, a fight one may have to face soon, victory, energy, courage_  
 **The foundation on which the situation is based: The Emperor:** _Accomplishment, confidence, wealth, stability, leadership, father/brother/husband, achievement, a capable person_  
 **A passing influence or something to be released: Eight of Cups:** _An abandonment of one's current path in life, disappointment in love, misery and repining without cause, desire to leave one's success for something higher_  
 **An approaching influence or something to be embraced: Two of Cups:** _A new romance, a well balanced friendship is beginning, harmony, cooperation_  
 **Your role or attitude: Two of Swords:** _Well balanced emotions are needed, indecision, trouble ahead, in need of direction_  
 **Your environment and the people you are interacting with: Temperance:** _Moderation, temperance, patience, harmony, fusion, good influence, confidence_  
 **Your hopes, fears, or an unexpected element that will come into play: Five of Swords:** _Failure, defeat, cowardliness, cruelty, an empty victory_  
 **The ultimate outcome should you continue on this course: The Tower:** _A sudden change, abandonment of past, ending a friendship, unexpected events, disruption, bankruptcy, downfall, loss of money or security_  
  
Sources:  
http://www.themysticeye.com/info/tarotcardm.htm  
http://www.ata-tarot.com/resource/cards/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would rather leave a comment at livejournal, you can do so [here](http://latemperanza.livejournal.com/11681.html)


End file.
